Aliens: Hubris
by ApeUnit
Summary: The Colony on Aconis LV-855 has gone silent. When it is suspected agents of a rival power might be responsible, the United States Colonial Marines are deployed. They soon realize the Weyland-Yutani Corporation is harboring something on the planet far worse...


Aliens – Hubris

 **Cpl. Richard "Dick" Morgan**

 **2/6 Marines – 3** **rd** **Colonial Marine Division**

Operation "Hubris" is what command was calling this shit show. Biggest cluster-fuck I have ever seen in my almost five years in the United States Colonial Marines. The "Hubris" connotation was directed toward the Chinese. In their arrogance, command told us, the Chinese agents thought they could occupy _Aconis_ and get away with it. The only thing they didn't count on was those fuckers at _Weyland-Yutani_. Apparently, the _Company_ had some big R &D setup there, and they didn't want the Sinos helping themselves to proprietary information. They got their lobbyists to raise a fuss with the Pentagon and insist _Aconis_ be secured.

What a fucking time to be alive! We were locked in this quasi-conflict with us, the United States, and the Chinese. The Chinese were the other bad hombres who expanded their reach into the stars. The Anglo-Japanese Bloc was the third player, but we seemed to be on pretty alright terms with them, most of the time. We called it the Colonial Bush War, probably not the right term for it, but you leave dumb grunts out in the cold expanse of space, they make dumb shit up. There were agreements drawn up on Earth. The major powers announced plans to establish off world colonies and sent the colonists on their way. They drew up boundaries and demarcations, and agreed to respect the others' sovereign claims. Back on Earth, it seemed to be an amenable strategy. But out on the frontier, Earth is very far away.

So, a shuttle of colonists touches down on a desolate rock and starts their colony. They mine resources, ship them back, investors make a shit-ton of money, everyone is happy. Maybe, on an adjacent planet, a rival nation's colony didn't hit pay dirt, they busted, and money was lost, bad times. Those guys get a bright idea seeing all the wealth being funneled back to Earth by their luckier neighbor. Their backers, and their government, need to see a return on investment, so they decide to act. The Chinese were always up to this shit. Don't get me wrong we had our fair share of claim jumping, but the Chinese were notorious. The popular idea of the day was their space program just wasn't as sophisticated as ours. Either, their telescopes were not calibrated, their probes returned faulty data, or they forwent sending a survey team and jumped right into landing colonists. Colony after colony they established turned out to go bust. They almost crashed the interstellar economy twice with their gung-ho colonization. The _Wey-Yu_ even helped bankroll some of their austerity measures. Well, what I'm getting at, the Chinese liked seize already established and resource rich colonies.

When seizing a colony, the Chinese would not land battalions of men and affect a hostile takeover. That action would jeopardize the peace. Their ops were clever and required patience, the Chinese are very patient. They would send in agents, saboteurs. These operatives would do all they could to stir up trouble amongst the colonists, and they were fucking good at it. These guys and gals were master manipulators and able to blend in perfectly. They'd plant bombs, poison food and water supplies, foment discord, and organize revolts. In the madness the public opinion of the colonists turned against their own government and they embraced the Chinese as saviors. The Chinese would immediately begin landing troops in a "peacekeeping" role, the "peacekeepers" having been invited by the colonists. Just like that, the Chinese had themselves a colony.

This was the game we played with them along the frontier and the borders between our systems and theirs. Neither side would venture deep into the others' colonized sphere, which would, of course, risk open war. They would take one our colonies, we'd land troops and take it back, or vice versa. The battles were small enough and far away enough to elude any serious repercussions. I joined the Corps when I was seventeen and I've been in eleven different engagements during my service. None of them prepared me for what was coming. And I only had six more months before my enlistment was up.

 **000**

 **U.S.S. Grumman – Kuat ASFB, Surier 430**

 **21 January 2178:**

We knew it was going to be bad; when you see another Conestoga Class holding orbit beside your own. The plan was getting worse with the arrival of _H.M.S. Dauntless_ , Christ the Brits were involved too. They were "supporting" us in this operation.

My rifle platoon was comprised of two sections of ten marines each. I had the first squad of the first section; three marines under my direct command. Lance Corporal Jessica Collins was my equivalent in the first section's second squad, Section Sergeant Nero oversaw us, and we were all under the leadership of Lieutenant Tompkins. Two platoons to a company and that was the ship's complement; forty Marines plus the company commander and our synthetic.

Our bucket of a ship was the _U.S.S. Grumman_. She wasn't all that bad, a rather newer addition to the fleet. The other ship was the _U.S.S. Thresher_ , in orbit just off of our starboard bow. Usually, an operation like this just needs the one platoon, hell; command gets ballsy and only sends a section of grunts sometimes. This time, they put together a whole company, a British cruiser, and we were awaiting a shuttle to dock and deliver more. Lt. Tompkins said the _Thresher_ would be expecting two hundred men from the Army's 303rd Regiment…fucking Army!? Out here?

Nero sent me to "B-Forward" deck on the _Grumman_. That deck houses the main armory for our small arms. I had Private Dirk Ramos with me, a barrio punk fresh from SoI _Lejeune_ ; the Corps being his alternative to jail. We were up there to inventory the weapons stores and prep them for our arrival at _Aconis_. I was working my way through the M41A Pulse Rifles stowed in the weapons rack, pulling them off one by one. I'd drop the magazine, pull back the bolt, and rack the slung under grenade launcher. It was a check to make sure the weapons were adequately lubricated and in working order. I'd place them back on the shelf and check to see if the battery that powers the weapons' pulse receivers were charging properly. I noticed that dickhead Ramos fucking around with one of the M56A2 Smartguns.

"That thing's not a toy, Ramos," I scolded him.

"Can't wait to get assigned one of these!" Ramos boasted. "I be a bad mutha fucker with this!"

Ramos was a short guy and scrawny in stature. We always gave him shit about that. His mouth made up for any of his shortcomings, however. The USCM allow you to enlist when you're 17, but this guy looked way younger.

"The Smartgun's like one of those amusement park coasters," I started, holding up my hand higher than his head. "You have to be this tall to ride."

"Heya, fuck you man!" Ramos swore.

He set back to the job of checking the weapons; opening the gun's receiver, checking for blockage, and then locking it down. It was just a repetitive assignment. We figured the op would need forty-two M41As, roughly one per marine. To account for redundancy, we'd prep triple that number. In the event equipment breaks in the field or some jackoff looses their primary weapon. And so we diligently continued our work, checking seventy-five rifles. I could tell the dull nature of the assignment was getting to Ramos because he kept insisting on starting a conversation.

"What are we getting into?" Ramos asked. "The Brits involved?"

"Can't say I know," I replied. "I've never seen a buildup on this scale, or even a joint op with the Brits. I can remember a time on _Erdani LV-144_ we got into a shooting match with 'em. Lot a good Marines were killed that day. But looks like we're friends now. I guess it's like Orwell said, we're at war with China, we've always been at war with China, and we've always been at peace with the Brits."

"Who?"

"Forget it, it's from a book."

 **000**

 **U.S.S. Grumman – Approach Orbit of** _ **Aconis LV-855**_

 **27 February 2178:**

Hypersleep is always a kick in the fucking face. Imagine you've woken up from your worst hangover where all you want to do is stay in bed and die, but instead you decide to chug a handle of vodka. Hurts don't it.

The rookie Marines, you could always spot them. The first thing they do is lean over the side of their hypersleep pod and puke their guts out. I saw Ramos emptying his stomach onto the floor, nasty fuck. We all did it when we were new, but I've since learned my lesson. The younger Marines all get shitfaced drunk after the officers and NCOs are asleep. Then they drunkenly crawl into their pods thinking they'll sleep it off and be fine by arrival time. The health monitors will purge the alcohol from your system while in hypersleep, but it won't do any good for your hangover. It has to do with the science or some shit, but you come out feeling like death.

"Fuck Ramos, watch it!" I shouted, as I sat up in my pod.

Sgt. Nero was making his customary survey of the company. He was the senior NCO of the company and the biggest prick you'd ever meet. His eyes were sunken into his face and he always had this cold, death stare expression. He was a career Marine and had no time for nonsense. Hell, I'm just here for the G.I. Bill money for college. Nero seemed to resent that fact about me, like I was using the Corps as a means to an end. To be honest, I kinda was. Growing up on _Kapteyn 46-d_ there aren't a lot of opportunities for you to make something of yourself. The Corps was really my only off of that rock.

"Dammit Morgan," Nero abruptly caught my attention. "The hell is wrong with Ramos."

"Just some cryo sickness, Sarge," I lied.

Nero graced us with his signature look of disgust before he moved on to inspect the rest of the waking Marines. I looked to the other three Marines of my squad. Ramos was puking his guts out, along with Pvt. Benjamin Strasburger. Both were the newbies who rotated in for this operation and clearly both had gotten shithouse drunk prior to hypersleep. There was also Pvt. Ron Sutton, my Smartgunner.

Sutton had been around awhile, he'd carried the Smartgun as long I can remember, but there was something about this guy. He was ghostly pale, like an unhealthy hue. We all called him the "Ghost" for it. The guys on the Smartguns were all kinda strange. The Smartguns are spectacularly accurate and can rack up quite the body count. I guess it gets to you after awhile. I think that Smartgun computer system that auto-tracks the targets has something to do with it. It gets inside your head and does things to your mind. Point is Sutton is a creepy fucker. The death's head tattoos he gets after missions where he's killed doesn't help his case.

I wasn't feeling too great myself at the moment. The rigorous cycle of short term hypersleeps, revivals, and back into hypersleep the Corps puts you through tends to play havoc on the body. You ideally need a long stay of active, awake time between sleeps, but not in the Corps. We're too busy for that luxury. It was the grogginess that had me a little slow to react to my FNGs, Strasburger and Ramos puking. Probably should've dragged them out of the Sarge's eyes. Those two idiots, under my command, being drunk reflects poorly on me.

"Looks like Morgan is getting scolded again," a familiar voice joked.

Before I could turn, I felt a firm hand grab me on the ass. It was one of those locker room friendly gestures. I knew immediately who it was. I looked and saw Jess Collins smiling with an inviting look. Only good part about hypersleep was having to do it in your skivvies, for some mechanical reason. Let's just say Jess fit into hers nicely, if you catch my meaning.

"I am disservice to the uniform," I responded to Collins. "I think that's what was said at my last disciplinary hearing."

"I hope you learned your lesson," said Collins.

"Yeah, stay away from colonists' daughters when dad is around. I still get occasional itch from the plasma burn."

So I have this massive disfigured patch of skin on the lower right side of my abdomen, just above the waist. However, that is a story for another day. Collins laughed at my remark and casually strolled by in the direction of the uniform lockers. She purposely swayed her hips in a seductive fashion, as she passed. It was a ploy to get me to look, and it had my full attention.

We had about twenty minutes to get dressed while the food dispensers kicked on and warmed our chow. Then we would have thirty minutes to eat the freeze-dried shit the military claimed was food before our initial mission brief. We were still a good six hours from the planet on impulse power.

The way the gravity drive manipulates space through the Alcubierre effect allows us to achieve faster-than-light travel without the horrific effects of time dilation. But, to avoid a drive malfunction and ripping apart any celestial bodies in our path, it is advised you come out of the jump a good 800,000km from your destination. Then you can glide right on in. The ship wakes us up just after exiting the jump. Now, we have to scramble to have everything ready by the time we arrive.

I hurried to my assigned locker to dress in my camouflage bdu shirt and pants. I rolled the sleeves of the shirt up to the Marine regulation length, just a few inches below the shoulder. It was high enough to show off the tattoo on my left upper arm, on the bicep. The design was a black sawfish, with a rounded body, open mouth, and a serrated nose. I saw it in an old history book. It was painted on the tower of a German U-Boat, back during Earth's Second World War. From what I read, those U-Boat guys were some mean mother-fuckers. Anyway, I thought it was badass, and a lot these asshats have no idea what it is.

Soon, we were all seated at the mess tables, adjacent to the lockers, eating what was technically dinner. It was 19:00 Zulu. The cornbread, as usual, was water logged from the freezing process. You'd be better off smuggling nacho crisps onboard, but those would be seized as contraband the minute you opened them. Call it officer's privilege. I still had Ramos and Strasburger in recovery, they both had their heads down on the table. Collins had come and taken a seat to my right. We ran over the basic topics, bitching about the food, laughing at the FNGs, all around general banter.

There was something that caught my attention, something that didn't seem right. Separated from our table was the one reserved for the officers. It was occupied by the company commander Captain Lou Deal, and the platoon Lieutenants, Tompkins and Edmonds. Our synthetic, Reagan, was also afforded a seat at the table. I looked at Capt. Deal, the "Old Man" as he was known. The Captain had a troubled expression on his face. He was intensely reading from a computer tablet, while the Lieutenants did a poor job of concealing the subtleness of their conversation. Me, I like to know what's going on.

"Everything alright, skipper?" I called out to the Captain.

Deal looked up from his tablet in dismay. He did not say a word, but his face conveyed there was something troubling on his mind. Immediately, Sgt. Nero leapt into the situation. He was company First Sergeant and his duty was to keep the divide between officers and enlisted. In a matter of a moment, Nero stormed over to where I sat. He leaned over and was directly in my face.

"You stow that mouth of yours, Morgan!" Nero snapped. "You will address an officer only when addressed. Do you understand me!?"

"Yeah I hear ya, Sarge," I responded.

Nero just grunted and returned a scolding look. Deal had gotten to his feet and seemed ready to address the company.

"I've just received a report," Deal began. "Finish up your meal and meet in the ready room in twenty."

The Captain turned to make his way to set up the briefing. The Lieutenants were quick to follow. Nero gave out a loud bark to bring us all to attention. All of us grunts rose to our feet and stood at attention, as the senior officers departed the mess. Once they were gone, Nero turned back to me.

"You get your shit together, Morgan," said Nero. "One fuck up…"

After his last remark, Nero pointed a threatening finger and stormed off. I turned to sit back down. The eyes of the company were upon me for a moment; everyone having watched the drama unfold. They were soon back to shoveling in food.

"Christ alive, Morgan," Collins started. "You're going to be our first casualty before we reach the surface."

"Jess," I said. "It's now February twenty-seventh. My enlistment ends on the thirtieth of June. I've already been through the Marine Corps education exchange, I've received my acceptance to the University of South Carolina, textbooks are reimbursed, and classes selected. In a little over four months, I'll be chasing those college girls all over campus. I don't give a fuck about Nero's threats."

"Yeah, ya prick. You're going to leave me alone with him and I still have another year and a half left. Be sure to send me a fucking postcard, college boy. Did you ever settle on a degree program?"

"I'm seriously leaning toward a Bachelor's in Colonization Strategy. With that, and my military experience, should be no trouble landing a job at _Weyland-Yutani_ or _Seegson_. Get a nice cushy office on Earth and send others to some far flung rock in the middle of nowhere."

"Morgan, I don't get you. You're just about the only person I've ever met that actually wants to emigrate to Earth. Most people are trying to move off and to the colonies. Earth is dirty, over developed, and crowded. Why the hell do you want to move there?"

The time was approaching for the briefing. By now, Ramos and Strasburger had their heads up and we shuffling to the assembly area. Each was pathetically munching on bits of cornbread. Collins and I continued our conversations, as we placed our meal trays in the automated washer.

"I grew up on a frontier colony," I said. "Survey teams reported it as mineral rich and my folks bought into that. They spent every last dollar they had on booking passage and buying a land claim. Turns out, the surveyor was a fraud and there were no minerals, not in the get rich quantity. All their money spent, my parents had no choice but to settle. Land wasn't greatest for cultivation and the colonization team neglected to contract a xeno-botanist, so my parents and the other families worked hard to farm the land. Never did produce anything spectacular. Then my sister and I came along. No real opportunities at home, so I enlisted the day after my seventeenth birthday."

"Well, if it were me," started Collins. "I'd shoot for _Wey-Yu_. _Seegson's_ a bunch of dumbfuck clowns."

 **000**

We were assembled in the briefing room. The room's capacity could seat forty occupants in its staircase seating arrangement. That tier elevating configuration allowed everyone to get a clear view of the presentation screen. Captain Deal was at the briefing podium. He had his head hung low and his face was red, flustered. It looked like he had been stressing over some bad news.

"When we assembled at _Kuat_ ," Deal began. "You were briefed on the parameters of this operation. Operation Hubris. At the time, we had confirmed the presence of Chinese agents on _Aconis_. We believed they were responsible for large scale civil disturbances throughout the colony. Representatives from _Weyland-Yutani_ also informed us of a potential breach at the research facility on the colony. That facility handles classified programs for both the United States military and the combined militaries of the Anglo-Japanese Bloc. That is why _H.M.S. Dauntless_ is accompanying us on this mission. Command saw fit to supply us with two hundred soldier boys to babysit on this run."

The room erupted in laughter from the jarheads. We always sought a laugh at the Army's expense. I did notice Deal was not laughing. I watched as the skipper pulled a cloth from his pocket and wipe his brow. He was noticeably sweating and appeared to be quite exacerbated. After the break in proceedings, Deal continued,

" _Aconis_ is a strategic outpost on our demarcation line with the Chinese. The Army units were going to remain there in an occupation role; to defend the installation and threaten any Charlies that want to tango on our rock. Well, we received word, right as we came out of hypersleep, the _Thresher_ suffered a fault in her gravity drive. She never made the trip. Because of the time delay in receiving a signal, we don't know if she's underway, still under repair, or God forbid, jumped into the middle of a star. It's just us and Brits on this one, and we know how well they can be trusted. To make matters worse, _Aconis_ stopped transmitting on their colonial frequency. Now, I don't like this which is why I need everyone one hundred percent on their mark. Gravity drives just don't FUBAR on their own. And anything that has _Wey-Yu_ involved also has fucked written all over it."

The jovial atmosphere had dissipated. Everyone started to shake off that aura of cockiness we had become so accustomed. I was right, when numbers this large are involved, it was bad. The skipper was good commander who treated us pretty well, but the man could be a total buzzkill sometime. The way Marines kick ass is to be fired up, aggressive, and even a little arrogant. It gives us our edge in battle. When an enemy goes up against a group of heavily armed and crazed jarheads, we want them shitting their pants. I thought I had better lighten the situation. If you couldn't tell already, I do radiate a great deal of arrogance.

"Who needs those Army fucks anyway, skipper," I spoke out. "I didn't want to spend op handholding and changing Army tampons."

As predicted, the Marines erupted in laughter. The Marines turned to one another to add their own insults to the Army, or boasted about how the USCM will always be your source for ultimate badasses. The skipper found it funny, as I saw a grin envelop his face. Nero, on the other hand, could only scowl. Oh well, can't win 'em all. After a few minutes, the room quieted down.

"Thank you Corporal Morgan," Deal said, silencing the room. "You're assessment of the Army's contribution to this operation will be noted. Now, we will be in orbit of _Aconis_ in five hours. I want supplies prepped and loaded. Flight crews, I want DST flight plans submitted within the hour and combat readiness reports from NCOs. We've trained for these scenarios, now let's put that taxpayer investment to use…dismissed!" 

**000**

It was an organized scramble to prep for an orbital drop. The _Grumman_ carried four UD-4L _Cheyenne_ dropships in two separate hangars. Our platoon had the ones in the forward hanger. Each dropship could carry ten Marines to the surface contained within a M577 APC. All tallied, we could have forty Marines deployed anywhere on the planet in just over an hour, pretty badass right?

On our end we had to get the dropship ordinance loaded. These were the heat seekers anti-ground and air to air missiles. They could really bring the pain if Charlie was bold enough to take pot shots. The _Cheyennes_ would drop us off and stay on station to provide close in air support. It was always good know they were up there watching our backs.

I had my squad with me, Ramos, Strasburger, and Sutton, in the armory prepping the small arms and packaging spare mags into ammo crates. We'd get the crates packed and stack them for Collins' squad to load them onto the APCs. Doing it prior to every drop, you get it down and it becomes routine.

"Hey Dick," Ramos annoying called to me. "What makes a ship's gravity drive go out?"

"FNGs getting drunk and pissing on the consoles will do it," I responded.

"What's with the Brits being out here with us?" Strasburger asked a nervous look on his face.

"Playing the _Wey-Yu_ puppet," I said. "Just to get in our way. Without _Thresher_ , the Brits will wait for us to shoot it out with the Sinos, then move against whoever's left."

"Really? I though the Brits were our allies."

"You kids were still in school during the _Erdani_ Crisis. My second deployment, it was ugly. We never came closer to a full on shooting war with the Anglo-Japanese Bloc than those tense few days. All the shit games we play with the Chinese combined don't come close to the Crisis."

"So what happened?"

I didn't respond to Strasburger's question. I turned my back and shuffled over to rack where the pulse rifles were stowed. _Erdani_ is a subject I don't like to talk about. We jarheads who were there don't ever bring it up. It has become a topic that isn't discussed. I notice Sutton add to the conversation. He was there too, he knew.

"Rule about _Erdani_ ," Sutton spoke in his dour voice. "You don't ever bring it up."

 **000**

We were thirty mikes from drop hour. This meant it was time to suit up. The platoon was in dispersed amongst our lockers fitting into our armor vests and tactical gear. I had my shin guards tightened and was strapping the chest plate in. All around the guys were getting worked up with displays of bravado. It was part of our process, get the war face on, get mean and ready to kill.

The Marines all inscribed their armor with personalized messages or images. The brass never officially condoned it, but they never told us we couldn't. Except on parade reviews or sensitive deployments, we all had a set of plain gear for those.

Ramos had some gibberish scrawled in white text across his chest plate. He claimed it had to do with fucking bitches or something in Spanish. Didn't look like no Spanish I've ever seen. To be honest, not sure Ramos could speak Spanish despite his insistence he could. Strasburger had a one of those old style swastikas painted on his, within the circle and eagle above. Thought it made him look mean. Swastikas were in style as a big fuck you to anyone you didn't like, especially the establishment. Kids back home were getting them tattooed like crazy. It had definitely lost its negative mass-murder connotation. Funny how things work out.

That creepy fuck Sutton had a fucking Satanic pentagram emblazoned on his. That guy had an unhealthy obsession with death. Smartguns will do that to ya. To be fair, I had a skull painted on mine, offset to the upper left of the chest plate. The skull had the Grim Reaper's hood wrapped around it. Below, I had painted the words "HOPE" just to fuck with everyone. Geeze, when I put it like that I'm starting to sound like Sutton.

As we finished gearing up, the klaxon sounded its blaring hum. It was the signal to assemble on the ready line. We dashed from the lockers to the armory. I took my place along the rifle rack with Ramos. While the jarheads rushed by, we issued them their pulse rifles. They would each grab four extra magazines on their way into the hangar. Once the last Marine had their rifle, I took mine, and Ramos his.

Before we left, I shoved a M240 flamethrower into Ramos' arms. I could see a look of displeasure at being made to carry two weapons. Never could figure why some non-coms let their guys go in only carrying a flamethrower. You should always have a pulse rifle with you if you're carrying a flamethrower. You will inevitably get yourself in a situation where it will be more of hindrance. So fuck Ramos' protest.

"You'll carry the flamethrower and you'll like it, Ramos," I barked.

He shrugged and accepted the order. We both made a brisk jog to join the rest of our section on the ready line. Both sections stood by their assigned APCs, ready to board. Lt. Tompkins would be commanding from the ops consol in our vehicle. That meant, Sgt. Nero would be in the field personally leading us, shit.

Nero was all brooding over us in our line. He was running one last inspection be we piled in to the APC. Tompkins gave the signal, and we packed aboard. Usually we go down with ten Marines in the APC, six riflemen, two smartgunners, a commander and driver, but the LT gave us eleven. Nero would be in the extra jumpseat.

I grabbed the seat right next to the door. I was always being assigned point man, first one out, I just naturally took on the role full time. I didn't worry; the plasma cannon turret would gooify any hostiles around before we opened the door. I'd deploy and the rest would follow.

We were all aboard and Nero slammed the door shut and locked it. I had a strange feeling hit me, like that was the last time I'd be seeing the _Grumman_. I needed to get that out of head, cause it'd fuck with your head and you'd buy it. We were all superstitious in that regard. The driver fired up the motor and the APC lurched forward. With some careful maneuvering, she backed it up the dropship ramp and locked the wheels for travel. Our counterparts from the second section and the other platoon in the aft hanger were doing the same.

The first one out of the pipe is our recon drone. The LQ-77 _Orbital Hawk_ was completely autonomous. It entered the atmosphere of the target planet just prior to drop. It cruised at a high altitude to provide aerial reconnaissance, as well as high-res LiDAR scanning and laser-optical/infrared detection. Our own eye in the sky that relays all the info right to us jarheads on the ground.

Tompkins radioed the pilot and we felt the lift ramp close. No turning back now. The Lieutenant then began to run a system diagnostic. He checked the feeds from our helmet mounted cameras, as well as our vitals. Everything seemed to check out. With another lurch, we could feel the _Cheyenne_ being lowered into the air lock. The over head doors closed and interior depressurized. We were ten seconds away; a tense and eternal countdown. The calm before the storm. It was one hell of a fucking ride down.

The countdown ends, and the pilot pulls the release. For a few seconds, when we escape the _Grumman's_ artificial gravity field, you feel the sensation of weightlessness. But it is a fleeting one. In just a few moments, you're thrown back into your seat. The force of gravity from the atmospheric entry feels like a Goddamn elephant is using you for a chair. It's twice as bad coming back, when the rockets fire and the UD-4L executes an orbital climb.

The atmospheric descent phase takes us about forty-five minutes to an hour. It can take longer if the pilots aren't on their game, or they fucked up the calculations. We won't drop until the _Grumman_ is lined up for our trajectory entry, makes the trip shorter and easier.

And so, after forty-five minutes, the chop died down and we were on a cruising vector. Our airspeed had dropped enough for it to be safe enough to extend the cross fold weapons pylons. From my seat I could see over the Lieutenant's shoulder to look at the display monitors. He was viewing a live feed from the dropship's gun camera.

 _Aconis_ looked more like paradise than the contested strategic, resource rich outpost. The planet's major continents and archipelagos were concentrated in the equatorial region which gave it a tropical climate and lush green vegetation. The colony complex was situated only a few hundred meters from the shoreline; prime beachfront property. If this op turned into an occupation detail, I wouldn't object. I'd be nice to spend the final days of my enlistment safeguarding colonists from a beach. It was a serene view, say for the massive open pit mining operation. The landscape seemed scarred by them. The heavy extractor equipment tearing up the ground in search of xeno-metals worth a fortune on the stock exchange. Some of the machines were the size of the lighter shuttles and starships.

The pilot made a low pass over the colony complex. It allowed Tompkins to rotate the gun camera and survey the scene. The Lieutenant was also being fed images to his consol from the _Orbital Hawk_ , as well as infrared scans. The refineries, where the ore was processed, looked in rough shape, like someone gave them the once over with high explosives. The Colonial Administration building, where the Governor and Marshal had their offices, was covered in scorch marks. The admin building doubled as an emergency shelter in case of disaster, so it was still in one piece. The housing units appeared mostly intact. They were a modular design reconfigured from the shipping containers used to drag all the materials out to this rock. It cut down on resources and expense sending supplies in shipping containers that could be repurposed as housing upon arrival. Seems the Chinese had been busy.

The landing site was the colony's launchpad, basically, a giant stretch of tarmac surrounded by a reinforced fence. It provided shuttles a wide berth for vertical takeoffs and landings, and parking. There was a large hanger on the far end. The air traffic control tower was near the gate to access the tarmac and it looked like someone put a rocket propelled grenade right through the top of it.

We were a few moments away from touchdown. The pilots were bringing our flight of _Cheyennes_ to the colony's launchpad. Being the launchpad was the ideal location for takeoff and landing of heavy lift shuttles, it would suit the Marines just fine. A bit of troubling news, or lack thereof concerned the Brits.

The fucking Brits were supposed to be supporting us in this op. We've had no contact from their Royal Marine detachment since we left the gravity jump. I know they're out there, the _Grumman's_ sensor suite picked up the _Dauntless_ in orbit and detected the launch of two Brit dropships. It was like they were ignoring us. Their objective was the _Wey-Yu_ lab and that where they were most likely headed. I figured we'd flush out the Chinese and then figure out why the Limeys are too good to call us back. One battle at a time.

 **000**

 _ **Sutlers Gamble**_ **, pop. 1,058**

 _ **Aconis LV-855**_ **:**

The seat restraint bars had been lifted just prior to touchdown. We all felt the thud of the dropship'slanding gear on the launchpad tarmac. The APC lurched forward from the belly of the _Cheyenne_. I clenched my M41A tightly, we all did. Things just didn't seem right on this drop, so I wasn't taking any chances. Especially, since my enlistment was coming to an end very soon. I was not about to buy it on what was most likely my last deployment.

I was out of my seat and next to the door, ready to pull it open and deploy once the order was given. I held my pulse rifle in my right hand and balanced myself by holding onto an overhead rail with my left. I looked over my left shoulder and could just see our of the driver's window. At the edge of tarmac was the burned out wreck of a CM-90, one of those huge M-Class heavy transports. Looked to be in a pretty fucked state. The Lieutenant shortly made the situation known.

"Weapons tight people," Tompkins said. "Looks like somebody blasted the hell out of the colony's M-Class. Be ready to engage any hostiles, you are weapons free. Waste any fucker who tries to waste you."

The L.T. put it so eloquently. The APC began to slow. The driver, Han, turned to address the Lieutenant.

"Sir, got a large group on foot approaching," Han spoke in a frantic tone. "Looks like the colonists!"

Tompkins immediately pulled up the images from the APC's gun camera onto his monitors. He ordered Han to stop the vehicle. The other grunts crowded around the screens and around the Lieutenant to get their own view. I, myself, just leaned over the driver's shoulder and saw them with my own eyes. There was a horde of them, whole families, clutching onto whatever they could carry, making a dash to the launchpad. They clearly heard us coming and looked to be ready to evacuate.

"Alright!" Nero interrupted the curiosity. "Back to your positions. Stop crowding the officer!"

The Sergeant was stepping in to restore a bit of order. I felt him grad the back of armor, in the gap between the back plate and the neck, and pulled me back toward my spot. The Lieutenant was anxiously scanning the images, trying to determine a course of action. The other APC was right next to us and came to a halt as well. The remaining two dropships were maybe a half hour behind us. Each hanger only had one airlock, so we could only launch one dropship at a time. Once launched, the pilots had to wait for the mechanisms to lower the next dropship into the airlock and wait for the pressure to equalize. You send in two dropships to secure the LZ for the next two.

The situation had Tompkins all worked up. We weren't sure what to expect once we landed, but we certainly didn't count on being met by a tide of colonists. The Lieutenant was on the comms calling to Captain Deal. The Captain's dropship must've still been in the blackout zone of atmospheric entry; communications were cut off from the ionization. Nero leaned over and close to Tompkins in order to address the Lieutenant.

"Sir," Nero spoke. "Recommend we deploy and create a perimeter. We have to keep the area clear for the other two birds to land. Those are our civys out there. If they aren't hostile, it would be best to establish a dialogue. Get some ground intel on Charlie's numbers and the extent of enemy activity."

"Right," Tompkins turned to address Collins and me. "Morgan, Collins deploy your squads in a defensive ring around the APC. Anchor on the flank of the second section. Hold fire on the non-combatants but keep an eye out for hostiles, they could be dispersed amongst the civilians. Keep them at length. We can't have them overrunning the LZ."

I gave the Lieutenant the affirmative and then a nod toward my three Marines. We had rehearsed deployments; had them drilled into our heads at infantry school. We all knew what to do, where to go. It was automatic. Tompkins relayed the plan to the other APC. Being Tomkins was the ranking officer on the ground until Deal's arrival, it was his call.

The order was given, the door rolled back, and we moved. I lead the way and the others followed. A quick sensor sweep of the crowd did not detect any weapons, at least not in their front ranks. The Marines from both APCs deployed. We set up a rank with about a meter between each of us. The APCs also had their cannons trained, in the event things went south. It got the attention of the colonists and they came to halt just before our position. The orders were to keep our weapons lowered, we didn't want to spook the colonists, but we needed to be ready.

Tompkins, after a few tense moments, stepped out from the APC. With Nero in tow, the Lieutenant stepped through our line. What looked to be some sort of authority figure emerged from amongst the colonists. He wore jacket with the _Seegson_ logo printed on it. Not the uniform type, the kind you'd get a business conference or in the company store. It was safe to assume it was the operational director for _Seegson's_ mining on _Aconis_. Pretty well paying gig to have with an off world conglomerate.

I was out of earshot of the exact conversation, being I anchored the right flank. All us Marines watched what looked like a heated exchange. The director kept pointing furiously at the _Cheyennes_ , clearly he wanted aboard. Minus the APC, at best we could cram about maybe thirty, thirty-five people aboard. The colony had about a thousand soles. It'd take more than one trip for sure. On top of that, we had hostile Charlies on the loose. We needed the dropships up their providing air support, not ferrying civys. The Lieutenant started pointing at a hangar on the launchpad. It was a massive structure to house some of their short range craft. I'm guessing he wanted them in there?

The conversation concluded with what appeared to be an uneasy agreement. Moments later, I had Nero storming in my direction and calling out my name.

"Morgan, Collins," Nero shouted. "Front and center."

We followed his command, Jess and me. The rest of my squad looked uneasy. The bravado of the youth seemed to wear off of Ramos and Strasburger. Nero loomed over us. He struck quite the imposing figure and always worked to maintain the image. Not really a sociable guy.

"Lieutenant's moving the colonists into that hanger," Nero said and pointed. "Something has them on edge and they refuse to return to their homes. We'll keep their together in the hanger until we can figure out what to do with them. Captain will make the final call when he gets here. Sergeant Larson's section will escort the civys and keep an eye on them. You two will take your squads and establish a perimeter."

"Any word on Charlie?" I asked Nero. "Their numbers?"

"We'll address that when it is relevant for you to know!"

What a prick? Nero turned around abruptly and stormed off towards the Lieutenant. I looked to Jess who could only shake her head. We both knew how full of shit Nero was and we were always sure to have each other's back. The whistle of the approaching dropships pierced the still air. It was Deal and rest of the company coming in.

I relayed Nero's instruction to the rest of my men and we moved. We set ourselves up at the entry gate that accessed the tarmac. A steady flood of colonists shuffled past. They were dirty, ragged, and tired. Many were bandaged and some were carried. Everything they could fit into a bag or suitcase was clenched in their grasp. The most difficult thing for me to recount, for any of us to recount, were the pictures.

My squad and I stood poised at the gate. The colonists were making for the hanger. As the procession made its way forward, colonists would break from the ranks and approach us. They would shove a printed picture into our hand, of a loved one or close friend. They'd explain the person was missing and pleaded for us to find them. The look of desperation in their faces, I'll never forget that.

This is where things were not adding up. The Chinese were not know for abducting, not their style. I got the feeling these abductions were en masse. It didn't make sense. The colonists approached nearly every Marine, handed us a picture, and asked us to search for that person. In only a few minutes, I had maybe fifteen photographs in hand, as did Ramos, Strasburger, and Sutton. I would smile, nod my head, and assure the colonist we would do everything we could. Something just did not sit right. So many colonists had vanished and nobody had an answer. There were the occasional hysterical colonists. They'd run up to a Marine, grab them with both hands, and start shouting about monsters running loose, monsters being the ones responsible for the disappearances.

I remember a frail woman approach me, not even in her forties. She looks terrible, like she hadn't slept in days or even had a decent meal. She grabbed my forearms with her shriveled hands and started shaking me frantically. She started screaming for me to find her kids, her husband; she lost everyone. Christ, what a way to get you unnerved.

 **000**

We got our orders and some organization once Captain Deal and the rest of the company touched down. The _Seegson_ rep gave us a rundown on what had been going on. The Chinese dropped an unconfirmed number of infiltrators on the planet and they had been running amok, bombings, sabotage, you name it. Once they had their fill of destruction, the rep said, they all pulled back to the _Weyland-Yutani_ lab. They've been hold up there since. No doubt they had their hands full with the Brits. A few Charlie marauders working through the colony, but no grand occupation. Typical slash and burn.

The Captain inquired about the colony's Governor and Marshal, but the rep didn't know. Last he knew there was a shootout at the admin building, about two days prior. The rep also couldn't account for the disappearances. He said the rumor amongst the colonists said creatures were taking people in the night. He didn't seem to buy it, nor could he offer an explanation.

In a short while we had our orders. Tompkins would take Nero's section in the APC over to the admin building to make contact with the Governor. One section would remain at the launchpad, while the remaining two would begin a house by house sweep of the colony habitats.

The APC was picking up speed, as were raced out of the launch complex and toward the colony buildings. There was one central road that ran directly from the launchpad to admin. It was lined on either side by dozens of two-three story modular habitats. The habs were laid out in a grid, with main roads and side streets. Like a miniature city. Against better judgment, we were on it. Not too many navigable routes to get to the building. The L.T. had his focus on the motion tracker displays on the consol. He was pinging the surrounding buildings with so many detection rays from the APC's transmitter we'd render anyone outside sterile for sure. Sucks they were waiting for us.

The APC jerked suddenly to left. Since none of us were belted, those seated on the right, myself included, were hurled onto the deck or onto our fellow Marines seated adjacent. Han had seen a RPG launch and quickly swerved to avoid the impact. The warhead exploded just outside the starboard door. I could even see the dents of shrapnel imprinted in the steel. Direct hit would've fried us for sure.

Nero screamed and ordered us out. Tompkins already began active target tracking. The forward twin auto-cannons spun up and were laying down a covering fire, so we could deploy. The 20mm rounds tore through the thin composites that comprised the modular habs. The APC sensors picked up the heat signature of whoever fired that rocket. The onboard target computer calculated a firing solution and charged the rear turret mounted twin Boyars PARS plasma cannons. I get such a hard-on saying that! Once locked in, boom. The plasma cannons fired one, then the other. The superheated plasma blasted the fuck out of the window where the rocket was fired. Tore the entire second story of the structure clean off. Colonial Marine overkill at its finest.

The side door to the APC was open and I was the first out. The forward auto-cannons were still spinning and keeping is covered. The turret scanned from side to side in search of its next target. Tompkins would probably deactivate it, too much power and too great a chance of friendly fire discharging a plasma cannon with us outside.

Behind me was one of Collins' squad, a squirrely kid named Lewis, poor girl. Charlie waited for me to exit, for some reason, and popped their head up. The hostile fired a burst and hit Lewis directly in the center of mass. The rounds tore right through her armor and she was dead by the time she fell backwards into the APC.

Ramos was directly behind Lewis. He let out the most fiendish howl when the lifeless body of Lewis collapsed into his arms. Nero was trying to throw Ramos from the vehicle, as he was creating a bottleneck that made those inside perfect targets. I had to act, keep them covered.

I racked the under-slung grenade launcher and chambered a 30mm grenade round. Then, I squeezed the trigger mounted on the fore grip of my rifle's magazine. The hostile was in the building to my front left. I could see him emerge from below the windowsill. He wore that distinctive grayish-black digitized Chinese infiltrator camouflage smock. I didn't hesitate; I fired the grenade straight at him. The grenade round sailed right through the window and exploded. A cloud of debris flew outward from the hab's interior in a ball of fire. Thick black smoke engulfed the upper floor and the firing stopped.

I turned my head to see Ramos face planting in the soft dirt. Nero had literally thrown him from the APC. The rest of the section piled out. Sutton was next with his Smartgun trained in the buildings. I heard the voice of Tompkins in my headset, he was broadcasting to all of us. He picked up two additional hostiles on the motion tracker. They were in the buildings on the left side of the street. Sutton was fed the data to his Smartgun's tracking system and began target acquisition.

The Charlie never stood a chance. He poked his head out from behind a corner of an upper floor window. It was just enough exposure for Sutton's Smartgun to rotate and lock. Sutton depressed the trigger handle and let out deadly spray of bullets. We watched them shred the hostile to pieces.

The radio cracked again, Tompkins picked up the forth hostile. They were about six meters from their comrade in a similar upstairs room. In a moment, Tompkins was alerting us to a fifth bogey on the tracker. This one looked to be in close proximity to the forth. Not good for spacing, but we could take 'em easily. I stared directly at Strasburger and held two fingers pointed to my eyes. It got his attention to be ready to target. I then pumped my fist up and down twice and pointed it toward the upper level room where the tracker picked up the hostiles. The signal told Strasburger to ready the RPG he had slung over his shoulder and fire at the window I pointed out.

We held our fire, but had our weapons ready and trained. Strasburger was arming the rocket and preparing a solution when we heard the most horrific scream. It came from the opened window where the hostile was situated. We didn't have an explanation for the screaming. Something clearly was hostile to our hostile. I waved Strasburger to lower his RPG and he complied. We all sorta just froze, as we listened. In a matter of moments, the screams had stopped.

" _The hell is all that noise!?_ " Tompkins said over the radio.

"Not sure sir," I replied.

" _I'm only reading one individual on the motion tracker. Did you neutralize a hostile?_ "

To say we were on edge would be putting it mildly. All of us looked around at each other, hoping to find a rational explanation. Something fucked up was going on.

"Negative sir," Nero interjected. "We have not directly engaged these hostiles."

" _Well I'm…_ " Tompkins started. " _Damn, the second one just vanished from my screen. Someone get up there and check it out. Find out where the fuck bad guy number five went!_ "

I saw Nero turn toward me. He had a cold, stern look on his face. He was a lifer in the Corps, he'd seen everything. A little oddity like this didn't worry him one bit. Sure had me on edge, though.

"Morgan, Strasburger," said Nero. "With me. We're checking out the structure. Rest of you, weapons ready and check your motion trackers. There may be more hostiles about."

I took point with Nero right behind me and Strasburger covering our six. We approached the front door of the two story hab unit in a tactical deployment. The front door was solid and closed, not an issue. I unclipped the standard issue hand welder from my belt fired its plasma jet into the access panel. It overloaded the system and killed the electrical system that held the doors tightly closed. All we had to do was pull them back.

The interior looked nicely appointed. The occupants had clearly made an effort to transform this modular habitat design concept into something homey. There were family photos, portraits, coordinated furniture, the works. Too bad it had been ransacked and smashed to hell. No time to focus on that, however. We ascended the circular staircase to the second level. I had my M41A raised and held tightly in my right hand. I used my left hand to help guide me up the stairs, keeping low in the event ambush. Nero had his left hand on my shoulder. It helped keep both of us balanced and ready.

Right before I breached the top of the stairs I paused. I pulled the thermal screen down from my helmet visor and over my right eye. I scanned left to right in a search for any heat signatures. Strange enough, there were no readings. Strasburger had my handheld motion tracker; I gave to him just before we entered. He studied the screen carefully, as it scanned the area. It registered no movement. We cautiously proceeded up the flight to the landing.

I looked ahead to the room where the shooter fired. There was a trail of blood that led down part of the hallway to an adjacent room. Looked like a body had been dragged by something, but what? Strasburger said he still had no reading on the tracker. We were at the door. I poked my head in and did a quick visual search of the room, empty. Nero ordered we follow the trail of blood. I had my pulse rifle raised, safety disengaged, and ready to engage whatever the fuck caused this.

The room the blood trail led us to appeared to have been a home office. There was a desk with a processor on it and pieces paper that fluttered about. Sprawled out in the center was the Chinese agent. Christ I've never seen anything like it. He lay in two separate parts, split between torso and legs. The blood was spattered all over the walls and the furniture. We saw the poor guy's intestines wrapped around and still pumping; twitching from the nervous system shutting down. His head had a fucking hole punched clean through it, like a bolt was driven through and removed. Then, something sharp must've eviscerated him, violently. To top it off, he had what looked like burns on his arms and the still intact fragments of his chest. The floor looked to have some corrosive substance eating through it in a few places.

" _Jesus Christ!_ " Tompkins said over the radio.

The Lieutenant had been watching the feed from our helmet cams and was equally shocked as we were. I bent down next to the Chinese agent to make a better examination. I patted around his neck to check for his dog tags. If they had any sense he wouldn't have brought them, best to allow for plausible deniability. Thought I'd check and, of course, didn't find any. Because us Marines have no shame, I started to go through his pockets looking for cigarettes or anything of value really. I felt Nero's boot kick me in the back.

"What, you're forensic expert now Morgan?" Nero scolded. "Get on your fucking feet!"

I was able to grab Charlie's lighter, though. Nero radioed the area secure message to Tompkins. The Lieutenant acknowledged and ordered us back to the APC. The admin building still needed to be reconnoitered. Outside, I saw Collins and our medic, Norton; lower the body of Lewis into a body bag. They took the care to remove her armor and equipment. The mission already had its first K.I.A. We were just getting started.

 **000**

The APC pulled up to the Colonial Administration Building. It was a large rectangular structure that stood five stories high and had the look of reinforced bunker. The top level windows had the storm shutters closed, clearly a facility lockdown. The plaza at the front entrance had several burned out vehicle rovers scattered about. A heap of junk steel, crates, and other large material appeared to form a makeshift barrier by the entry doors. The exterior was pot marked by hundreds of small craters, a result of weapons fire.

We had our orders and began our deployment. I led my three Marines; Sutton with the Smartgun had point. Collins, who was down a Marine, covered the left flank and provided cover for our advance. Nero stepped in to assume to direct command of Collins' squad to supplement their strength. Tompkins was directing movement from the console in the APC.

My squad was ordered forward. The four of us had to pull ourselves over the barrier of makeshift junk. Easy for riflemen, but Sutton had a bit more difficulty because of his Smartgun rig. It took a few moments and we were over. I ordered Strasburger forward to run a bypass on the door's locking mechanism. He hooked up his bypass processor to the terminal access and started the computations. The door responded and started to budge, but didn't open. They were a set of double sliding doors powered by a pneumatic piston. Someone inside must've jammed the gears.

"It ain't opening, corp," said Strasburger.

"Ramos," I said. "We're cutting through. You take right, I got left."

We each unclipped the hand welders and started cutting. The plasma torch ripped through the steel door like it was paper. Dividing the work, we had a hole cut right through. I gave it kick and the steel sections fell backwards into the facility.

Sutton stepped forward into the hole with his Smartgun pointed. The active tracking system started to scan for targets. The lights from our back shoulder mounted lanterns illuminated the dark interior. The emergency lighting system must've failed because it was pitch black. We advanced in a two by two formation. Sutton and Ramos were up front, while Strasburger and I were directly behind. I had the motion tracker in my left hand. The device sent out its radar pulses, but received no returns. The constant tick of a no return motion pulse kept us on edge. It really built up the suspense; the anticipation to hear it acquire was torturous.

The room was an atrium, the reception and waiting area for the facility. The benches had been piled to form defensive fortifications. There was a horrific smell that hung heavily in the still air. I knew that smell, I'd encountered it far too often. We found the body of a Colonial Marshal Deputy not too far ahead. He still had his service pistol held firmly in his grasp. We could see the damage caused by multiple impacts from small arms fire. It shredded the reception desks and impacted the walls.

"You picking this up Lieutenant?" I radioed. "Looks like one of the Deputies bought it. No signs of life here."

" _Copy that Morgan,_ " replied Tompkins. " _Take a man with you and proceed to operations. Second squad, I want a room by room sweep in two man teams._ "

"Hey Dick, how'd we pull this bullshit assignment?" Ramos mouthed off.

"Shut your fucking face, Ramos," I cursed the punk. "Go with Sutton and get this place swept. Stras, you're with me. Let's get to ops."

"Some lights would be nice," said Strasburger. "If you guys see a switch, be sure to throw it."

"Yeah I hear ya," replied Ramos. "Hey Dick, why I gotta be paired with Sutton? Guy's a fucking weirdo."

"Do not let the madness overcome you," Sutton uttered aloud. "Control it and use it to survive this insane world."

"See, the guy's a fucking nut!" exclaimed Ramos.

"All of us are sick," Sutton turned to Ramos and said with a grin.

Sutton then started to wander toward a hallway to begin the search. Ramos was reluctantly in tow. I motioned to Strasburger to follow me, as we set off for operations. Nero's squad was just stepping through the hole in the door. I was sure to flip Collins the bird, to let her know this was a S.N.A.F.U.

 **000**

The admin building was a series of long hallways with offices and other rooms that broke off on either side. To make the materials easier to ship, it was prefabricated in modular sections that fitted together upon arrival, so all the pipes and electrical conduits were exposed on the sides of the hall. Picture the interior halls on some of the older freighters, you get the idea. It had a real claustrophobic vibe.

Strasburger was just ahead of me and I was following closely behind with the motion tracker. It still was not registering any contacts. We came across two bodies, though, a dead Deputy Marshal and a Chinese operative. It looked like they had been at each other's throats. The Deputy's grip on his pistol was tight and the slide was locked back; indication he emptied the magazine. The Charlie a hole bored through his neck, kinda similar to the one we found in the house back there, but these hombres had been dead a few days. His head was barely hanging on by a few tendons. Strasburger made a comment about the Deputy's pistol; thinking the caliber had to be pretty powerful to bore straight through Charlie like that. Rookie would learn in time that bullets didn't behave that way, maybe there was something out there, and maybe the colonists were right to be spooked.

There was no power, so the elevators weren't an option. The stairwells had all been barricaded with desks and debris to create impassible obstructions. We could not get above the second floor. Realizing there was no other way; I yelled "fire in the hole" and Strasburger knew to get clear. He took off down the stairs and ducked outside of the door. I pulled one of the grenade rounds, the ones meant for the rifle's under slung grenade launcher, and pressed the primer. I tossed it into the debris and followed after Strasburger. A few seconds later the deafening echo sounded across the floor. It did the trick. All it took was some careful footing over the burning bits of debris and we were through.

The operations room was just ahead. There were bullet impacts along the walls. The strange thing was it looked the people defending the control room, the Marshals, were the only ones shooting. As in, whoever was attacking them wasn't shooting back. I stopped for a second to crouch down around the impact areas. I noticed strange holes in the floor. The metal in the floor grates looked to have been dissolved by some acidic substance. What took the cake was the graffiti on the section of wall next to the door to operations. Someone took spray-paint and scrawled "GOD HELP US".

The door was slightly ajar and it took a combined effort from Strasburger and me to pry it open. It was shrouded in darkness. We scanned the room with our shoulder lamps to survey the interior. There were no bodies, but plenty of signs of a struggle. Furniture was overturned, terminal stations smashed, and streaks of blood cover the floors. Yet, we did not see any bodies. A small terminal on the center console pulsed a faint green hue. I walked over and say the screen read "AUX Power: Y/N", so I typed the "Y". The building rumbled, as the emergency power generators kicked in. The surge of electricity coursed through the structure. The lights started to flicker on sparingly; reduced illumination in auxiliary power mode. The generators could keep the structure functioning for 72 hours, it was standard requirement.

" _Morgan, that you?_ " Collins radioed.

"Yeah, it's auxiliary though," I replied. "Main plant is still offline."

" _Pull what info you can from logs_ ," Tompkins interrupted. " _I'm coming up_."

The Governor's office was a glass encased room attached to the operations center, so he could oversee the running of the colony. Strasburger went into the Governor's office and booted up the terminal. He had his bypass processor out and plugged into the bus port. It automatically ran an official military protocol that granted override in emergency situations. It unlocked the logs and files on the colony, bypassing any logins and passwords. The top secret material, out of the clearance scope for us grunts, was kept locked. I opened the logs and pulled the most pertinent ones bookmarked as such per the emergency guidelines. They were ready for playback by the time Tompkins, Nero, and the other two Marines of my squad arrived. We stood around the monitor, as the haggard appearance of the Colonial Marshal appeared on the screen.

 _Official log of Benjamin Ramsay, Colonial Marshal of Suttlers Folly, Aconis LV-855, United States Colonial Holding. It has been two days since we confirmed the presence of Chinese operatives freely moving about the colony. They've seized the Weyland-Yutani complex and have been actively working to sabotage vital infrastructure; the power grid, communications, even our freighter was bombed. Rumor is they're after whatever it is Weyland-Yutani is up to at their lab. The Governor went to try and negotiate with them, hear out their demands. They opened fire on him and two Deputies sent to escort him. No casualties, but it's clear they don't want to talk. We've dispatched word to the Colonial Authority for military assistance. We hope the Marines arrive in time…_

(Two weeks later)

… _The disappearances…they've gotten worse. Three hundred missing since the Chinese arrived. The numbers climb every day. My Deputies are stretched beyond their limits. The colonists are turning on each other, paranoia and suspicion is rife. The power failures and water filtration interruptions aren't helping. The Governor has been traveling to the lab complex every day, pleading at the front door, offering the unconditional surrender of the colony. They stopped firing warning shots and aren't even opening the doors. That was until yesterday. The Governor and Deputy Cobbs went out to the lab and haven't been seen since. I've been reluctant to declare them missing, tensions are already high…_

(Three weeks later)

… _Eight hundred and ninety-two colonists, eight hundred and ninety-two, out of a population of one thousand and fifty-eight, are missing. As you can see by my appearance, things have been rough. A few hours ago, we repulsed an attack by a squad of Chinese operatives. Four of my Deputies are dead, three wounded, not counting me. I took a bad shot to the chest and I fear it mortal. Christ, things are out of control. Where are the Marines we asked for!? With the freighter destroyed by the saboteurs, nobody can leave, we're trapped here, trapped here with the monsters…I know what's behind the disappearances. Weyland-Yutani brought these things, these monsters here. The Chinese must've known, that's what they were after, that's why they wanted the lab. The Chinese were arrogant, they didn't know how to control them and now they're loose. Why are the Chinese still trying to fight us? We have a more serious threat. The monsters are the perfect hunters. They come at night and abduct their prey. Nobody has seen one up close, but they've caught glimpses. My Deputies engaged one right outside this office. We aren…goin…to mak…_

That is where the transmission ended. The recording system seemed to be suffering some data corruption. I know the accounts jumped, but I tried to recount only the most pertinent ones for the sake of timing in this telling.

We all were staring at the Lieutenant, as if looking to him for guidance. We weren't sure what to make of the recordings we had just watched. The arrogant bravado us Marines were famous for had effectively dissipated. I could see the anxiety in Tompkins' expression. He turned to Nero in his own search for counsel.

"Crimelord, this is Outlaw one," Tompkins said over the radio.

" _Receiving_ ," replied Captain Deal. 

"We've secured admin and accessed logs. Governor and Marshal are both MIA."

" _I have your helmet cams on screen, place looks rough._ "

"That's affirmative, no sign of survivors or enemy combatants. Only casualty is the one."

" _Pariah one reporting,_ " interrupted Lieutenant Edmonds. " _The Hawk is picking up a runner coming from the Wey-Yu lab, just crawled through a gap in the perimeter wall. Moving fast and unarmed toward the main colony. I tally four Brits by the front entrance, but it doesn't look like they see him."_

" _Outlaw, you're closest,_ " replied Deal. " _See if you can pick him up and find out what he knows._ "

"Roger that," said Tompkins.

The company commander's callsign was Crimelord. When identified on the radio, Tompkins and our platoon was Outlaw and the second platoon was Pariah. Nero was Outlaw 1-1 and I would be Outlaw 1-1-Alpha, Collins Outlaw 1-2-Alpha, and our Marines would range from Bravo, Charlie, Delta, etc. Usually, we just used names at the platoon and section levels. The officers had us on cams anyway.

Collins was ordered by Tompkins to take her two remaining Marines and intercept that runner. Han in the APC climbed into the Lieutenant's chair to access the _Hawk's_ video feed and direct Collins on the ground. It took them about twenty minutes to catch the guy.

Ramos and Strasburger met Collins at the door to the admin building to take custody of the individual. Those two made little effort to escort him gently to the operations room. The man was dressed in the fatigues commonly worn by the Chinese infiltrators. There were no official markings or unit insignias, but we knew what team he played for. He had a large gash on his forehead. Collins would later tell me she waited behind the corner of a building and hit the man with the butt of her rife as he rushed by.

Tomkins radioed to the Captain about having a possible Chinese saboteur in custody. These guys rarely get taken alive, so this was a first for me. His fatigues were tattered and looked to be covered in some sort of dried goo, or slime, or some nasty mucus shit. His face was quite pale, rather sickly I would say. And he was hungry; he was begging us for food in pretty decent English. Tompkins offered him a ration bar from his kit. All around, the captive looked haggard and beat. After a few bites, the ration bar was gone. The satiated grin from the nourishment turned abruptly to horror.

"So can you tell us what you're doing here?" asked Tompkins.

"You…you have to get out of here!" the saboteur said, growing hysterical.

I was standing right behind him and placed my hand on his shoulder; tightening the grip to keep him in place. He was rocking back and forth. His brow was covered in sweat and he was shaking. Tompkins pulled up a chair and sat down. The Lieutenant pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offered one to the saboteur and took one for himself. I took the flip lighter from my pocket and lit the man's cigarette. Tompkins was cool and collected; ready to parlay with the infiltrator.

"What's got you so spooked?" asked Tompkins. "We will see to it you are treated accordingly to the Geneva II Accords. No harm will come to you. Now, would you mind explaining what you are doing here on American soil?"

"You'll take me with you!?" the saboteur said excitedly. "You take me off this planet, I'll tell you everything, please just get me the fuck outta here!"

Tompkins stood up from the chair. He motioned over to Nero come over and consult. The pair we just out of earshot and as much as I wanted to know what they were saying, I just couldn't make it out. Ramos sauntered over, the barrel of his M41A shoved into the saboteur's face.

"I say we waste the fucker!" exclaimed Ramos.

"Fuck off Ramos," I told him.

Nero pushed Ramos aside. Tompkins returned to the seat and looked directly at the saboteur.

"Give me something, I think we can come to an arrangement," said Tompkins.

"No Yankee bullshit?" the saboteur suspiciously asked.

"No Yankee bullshit."

"We were after the Weyland-Yutani lab. Intelligence intercepted some of their corporate transmissions. Company scientists had found something, eggs, four of them. Three were about the same size, but the fourth was noticeably larger. They didn't say where, we think somewhere in this system. They brought them here because this was the closest lab equipped to handle them."

"He calls us for bullshit!" Ramos interjected.

"Shut it, Private!" Nero snapped.

"How man infiltrators?" Tompkins questioned.

"Forty-four," replied the saboteur. "…when we landed. Those things, in the lab. They killed my comrades."

"What things in the lab? The eggs?"

"Yes! The eggs, some sort of monsters hatched from them. Latched onto their faces and began killing my comrades, slowly, methodically. We fortified the lab, dug in, determined to capture the creatures and take them back. A squadron was sent to carry out additional acts of sabotage to keep the colonists busy and in disarray. For days, we hunted the evasive creatures through the massive lab complex, but more and more us would simply vanish. Our numbers dwindled and soon there were few left. We had no hope of retrieval. Our ship would not extract us without the specimens in hand. Fuck the specimens, get me the fuck outta here, I don't care if you put me in camp or prison; just get me the fuck off this planet."

The Chinese saboteur grew hostile once again. He started to convulse and shake. Then, he let out the most awful, gut wrenching scream of agony. I could no longer keep him in his seat. It was like he was having a seizure or something, Christ he was shaking so bad. And then the most horrific sight I've ever seen, nothing can compare to your first time seeing it. The saboteur was pulling at his shirt, eventually ripping it off. His chest cavity was expanding, like something inside was pushing its way out. The skin finally reached its breaking point and split.

The blood and gore blew upwards like a landmine. It covered the nearby consoles, got all over my pants, and splashed the Lieutenant in the face. This pale creature, ugly little fucker, comes crawling out of his chest, covered in the man's blood. It turned to us, looking us all in the eyes. We were in fucking shock, completely still, trying to process what the fuck was happening. The creature hissed at us. Just a little peanut-like thing had the nastiest set of teeth and what looked like another mouth within its mouth.

We all sorta just took a few steps back, to give the thing a wide berth. I'd seen some ugly alien creatures on other worlds, but this one was the fucking ugliest. The thing was fumbling around, like adjusting to its surroundings. It slithered back and forth, hissing at us, trying to back us off. The thing could somehow tell we were more afraid of it than it was of us.

"Oh fuck no," Ramos shouted.

The Private stormed forward with his flamer drawn. We reacted quickly, to get out of his way. Ramos let out a short stream of flame. The fire caught the creature and roasted it right before our eyes. It let out an awful screech in agony, as it abruptly burned to death. Nero stepped in, pulled the flamer from Ramos' grasp, and threw it to the side. The Sergeant pushed Ramos hard and Ramos fell on his back.

"What the fuck were you thinking!" Nero was ballistic. "You cannot discharge a flamethrower in that proximity to friendlies! And clearly you aren't acquainted to xeno-contact procedure. You don't go wasting creatures on first contact unless they pose an imminent threat."

"The thing just punched through a guy's stomach," snickered Ramos. "Seems pretty threatening to me."

Nero was disgusted and let out a grunt. He stormed off toward Tompkins, who had taken the opportunity to start wiping the blood from his face. I walked over to Ramos still on the floor. I reached out a hand and grabbed his extended one. Then, I helped pull him to his feet. Once he was up, I pulled him in close to me, to tell him something in confidence.

"Fuck what he says," I told Ramos. "I would've done the same. Fry any fucking alien that looks at you funny."

Ramos gave a delighted grin; he wasn't letting Nero's comment get to him. He's a good kid and learning fast. Tompkins and Nero had stepped away from the rest of us and were conversing. They were clearly communicating with Deal. The Captain had watched the entire episode play out over our helmet mounted cameras. Luckily, I knew which channel they used for their officers' chats, so I discretely switched over to listen in. Doesn't hurt to stay informed.

They reviewed and discussed what the saboteur had confessed. It seemed as strange to Deal as it did to me that the saboteur opened up like that. I mean admitted, sorry for the pun. The Chinese train their people ruthlessly, to never talk if captured, if tortured. This guy really spilled his guts…couldn't help it. Point I'm trying to make, something had the saboteur terrified enough to talk to the enemy and tell us everything. Being the saboteur was spotted running from the lab, it was safe to assume that creature originated from there.

I'd been on bug hunts before, pretty much the main thing us Marines get into. Not my first alien I've ever seen neither. Usually, some indigenous life form on a colony world will bite a colonist or snatch a child in the night. We get sent in to exterminate said threat. It's always some beast just playing the natural part of predator, but order are orders, we kill 'em all if we have to. Never seen one this violent before.

Deal mentioned there still had been no radio contact established, as of yet, with the Brits. He ordered Tompkins to take the section and make contact. Tompkins was instructed to exercise extreme restraint and not provoke an action. Simply communicate the urgency the Brits had to return our calls. Personally, I'd be fine if we wasted them all. Those fuckers deserve it for what they did on _Erdani_.

 **000**

We were back in the APC and jostling about the interior, the vehicle racing down the gravel road. The science lab was a few kilometers from the main colony base and habitats. The idea behind the isolated lab construction was isolation. Sure, the scientists lived in the habs amongst the colonists, but they did their utmost to safeguard _Weyland-Yutani_ secrets. Some schematics on the lab complex would be nice. Of course none were available, being _Weyland-Yutani_ proprietary information. Going in blind, not ideal, but we'd just have to make it work.

I was leaning over the driver and could see the complex coming into view over Han's shoulder. It sure was massive. The complex was several buildings that took up several acres linked by sky bridges. It was surrounded by a fifteen foot high perimeter wall with an electrified fence top. We were supplied with next to no information about the lab, what sorts of shit they got into in there. Estimates were about maybe a hundred mad scientists running wild up to all manner of unethical experimentation.

The gate was directly in front and Han had to slow the APC to a halt. Before us were four Royal Marines standing guard with their weapons raised. Tompkins told us all to make sure we held our fire, to only fire if fired upon, all that avoid a straight up shoot 'em out bullshit. The twin canons mounted on the APC could do the job, fry them all right there. The option was there anyway.

The Royal Marines knew they couldn't take us, not against an APC. These four were staring us down with their dark green berets and Koch-Enfield bullpup pulse rifles. We leapt out of the APC, in tactical formation ready to defend ourselves just in case. Tompkins emerged slowly from the interior. He passed through our line and approached the Brits. His arms were raised slightly to indicate his peaceable intent.

"Alright mate, that's far enough!" the Royal Marine Sergeant called out.

"I just want to talk," replied Tompkins, as he stopped.

"This facility is under the protection of His Majesty's Government. I suggest you stand down and withdraw immediately."

There was a sense of fright in the Brit Sergeant's tone. When you looked into the eyes of each of the four Brit Marines you could see the fear. What the hell was up with this place? The fear was spreading faster than any sort of disease you could imagine. Christ, there had to be more of those creatures inside, fucking _Weyland-Yutani_!

"We're not here to provoke a confrontation Sergeant," said Tompkins. "I have been instructed to speak with your commanding officer. It appears there may be some difficulties with our transmission equipment. We haven't been able to establish contact with anyone on your side. There are a lot of boots on the ground and my Captain wants to ensure there is some form of collaboration to avoid any accidents."

"Our Lieutenant is sequestered at the moment," said the Brit Sergeant. "I will pass along your message to him shortly."

"O' Christ Sarge!" piped in one of the Brit privates. "Just fucking tell 'im the truth!"

"You 'eard thems on the raido, Sarge!" said another Brit. "They're all fucking dead and so are we if we don't get the 'ell outta 'ere!"

"There's no proof of that!" shouted the Brit Sergeant. "Now all of you shut the fuck up, now!"

The Brit Sergeant turned and started to chastise his men. Tompkins remained calm and collected. His stern demeanor might be able to influence the Brit's decisions. Their discipline had completely deteriorated. All four were arguing amongst themselves. It seemed the privates favored enlisting us in helping locate their comrades. The Sergeant was firmly against the idea. More and more we could figure the Brits were issued orders to secure and hold the lab complex, including breaking all contact with any and all other forces. Sure was a funny sight to see three grunts viciously arguing with a superior.

I had an eye on Tompkins. He sure was a slick one. I'd say his talents were more suited for the JAG Corps than combat infantry. Sensing the discord among the Brits, Tompkins casually strolled up and stepped into their argument. At a distance, I could barely make out what he was saying, but it appeared he was negotiating to some degree. Tompkins subtly played the force card. He made it known we could easily outgun the four and walk right into the facility.

The Brit Privates were quite hysterical and worked up. They were ranting about the calls put out by their platoon, the screams and cries. It seemed the Brits were being attacked by something, something mean. Whatever that something was, it was picking them off one by one. No doubt we were dealing with whatever burst through that saboteur's chest, perhaps members of the same nest. I found it a little pathetic the Brits were given this much trouble by a worm thing that stood not even a meter from the ground. On the other hand, it was alarming that a creature this small could burrow into you like that. Wonder where it entered?

When faced by the three remaining Privates, who were on the verge of mutiny, the Brit Sergeant relented and agreed to enlist our help in locating the rest of platoon. I think it was also the ominous screams in his ear made by his comrades that had some degree of affect. Tompkins concluded his negotiations and made his way back over to us; radiating a grimace of satisfaction.

Tompkins called Nero, Collins, and myself over for a short briefing. The truth was the Brits had lost contact with the rest of their platoon. Seems this radio blackout had gone from the Brits being dicks to something more malevolent. The Lieutenant said the Brits would let us into the facility in exchange for assisting them in locating the rest of their platoon. Not a bad trade. Deal was also listening in on our conversation.

The topic shifted to the creature that popped out of the saboteur's chest. Ramos had fried the only specimen available. If what the saboteur said was true and it wasn't native to this planet, it would behoove the Colonial Marines to investigate a little further. Perhaps pull some records from the _Wey-Yu_ computers and send them over to Reagan to analyze.

The plan was established. We would go in with the Brits to the facility's command center and start pulling data. From there, Nero would take my squad and three of the Brits to begin a search for any trace of the Royal Marines. We weren't afraid to squash a few bugs, I mean we're the Colonial Marines, your team of ultimate badasses. Brits and the Chinese didn't have a Smartgun like we did. I'd put Sutton up front and let him wipe out any of those little crawly creature fucks. Damn, I was sorta hoping for more of a fight.

 **000**

The entire section was deployed and we escorted the APC through the gate and into the grounds of the lab complex. The area was a mess with litter and discarded supplies scattered about. A few tents, initially set up by the Chinese, were collapsed. It appeared as if the Chinese had torn this place apart, resembling more of the aftermath of an outdoor music venue.

We approached the primary structure, which held the main labs and offices. A large rectangular door was closed and required the code input by one of the Brits to open. Clearly, they had changed the access upon their arrival. The twin suns _Aconis_ orbited had started to set. Tompkins switched on the searchlight of the APC to illuminate our path. Han was left to watch over the APC, as we all proceeded inside.

The internal design of the lab building resembled the admin's structure. All of these colony buildings we prefabricated to make them more easily shipped. It was all hallways and corridors with the utility piping running along the sides. Not so much aesthetic as practical.

The halls were a mess, however. The obvious signs of something bad went down. There were blast marks from pulse rifle round impacts, as well as odd sorts of burns through the metal flooring. When you stepped over one of these burn holes you could see clearly down a few levels. Really added some clarity to the structure, which contained several levels underground, but what was responsible for the burns? It had been melted. Didn't know either side had small arms capable of that.

Our formation was kept tight while we proceeded down the entrance corridor. Directly ahead was a glass enclosed room that served as a crossroads for several hallways that branched off. It was the command and control center for the facility. The glass appeared cracked like something was trying to break through in several places. Makeshift barricades were erected all around to reinforce the control room. We could see the body of a Royal Marine slumped over a desk inside. Three of the Royal Marines among our number called out the name of their fallen comrade in unison and raced forward. Their Sergeant begrudgingly followed, as did we.

The interior of the control room was in shambles. Desks and tables were overturned, recess lighting in the ceiling flickered on and off, and the signs of nasty shootout were evident. I placed Sutton to guard just outside of the control room door along with Collins' Smartgunner. Brits gently rolled the body of their comrade onto his back. He had a terrible hole punctured straight through his neck. It was eerily similar to the Chinese operative we encountered in the hab earlier. The puncture wound was large enough to almost fit a hand through.

The medic, in Collins' squad, pushed her way forward for an examination. She just put into words what we all knew, the Brit was dead. A rattling immediately had everyone jump. The room was still and quiet; suddenly interrupted by the disturbance. At once our weapons were up and ready. There was a small box in the corner of the room that shook violently. It was one of those small animal carrying crates, like what you'd put a cat in, but this wasn't a cat.

"Morgan, go check that out," Nero ordered.

Always fucking picking on me. So, I advanced forward with my pulse rifle nervously pointed forward. I expected to see that worm thing creature through the small transparent viewport. If it was, it would be best to avoid it burrowing into any of us. My right hand firmly gripped the pulse rifle while I stretched out my left and seized the carrying handle. Ramos and Strasburger were both over my shoulder and ready to cover. I hoped they would at least wait until I got out of the way first before they decided to start shooting. I felt the cage shaking in my hand, as I lifted it from the ground. Everyone seemed to back away when I swung it around and placed it on a consol. Our curiosity then got the better of us and we all leaned in for a closer look.

The cage rattled a bit and jumped up and down before it came to a rest. Whatever was inside probably knew were watching it. Best I could make out was a tail through the viewport and its beige skin color. I bet Reagan would be delighted examining this thing. If androids could feel delight.

"Leave it alone," said Tompkins. "We'll get it to Reagan so he can take a look and determine if it goes to science division or gets disposed. Collins, start pulling what you can from the data banks and begin transfer."

Collins set to work on one of the still functioning terminals. She plugged a data device into one of the connection ports to start the data transfer. Tompkins turned to the Royal Marine Sergeant and began to discuss how we would proceed. Nero was hovering around the conversation like the smug nosed hawk that he was. Strasburger and Ramos were preoccupied taunting the creature; poking at the cage with their rifles and shaking it. I was ready to shout at them to get into formation, that's when it all went to shit.

The latch on the cage had inadvertently come loose in their harassment antics. The creature inside took full advantage. In an instantaneous moment, it leapt from inside the cage and affixed itself to Strasburger's face. The Private fell to the ground immediately and did not move or struggle. We raced over and crowded around the comatose Strasburger.

The creature they let out was different. It had more the appearance of a spider than the worm we saw earlier. This creature's digits were wrapped completely around Strasburger's head, while its tail tightened around his neck. The medic knelt to his right and me to his left. She was completely dumbfounded as to how to proceed. More accustomed to treating violent bullet wounds, this was beyond anything she had ever dealt with.

"The fuck is that thing!" Ramos exclaimed.

"Shut the fuck up, Private!" responded Nero.

"Norton, what do you think?" Tompkins asked the medic.

"Hell if I know sir." Norton the medic replied. "I sure as shit haven't seen anything like this before. I'm still getting a pulse from Strasburger. He's alive and breathing."

"Can you pull that thing off?"

Norton motioned to enlist my help. She grabbed onto the set of legs of the creature on her side of Strasburger and I took the ones on mine. Together, we pulled as hard as we could, but they simply would not budge. This little shit had one hell of a grip. To make the situation worse, its long tail started to tighten around Strasburger's neck. It didn't want to come off and was ready to strangle Strasburger if we pulled it.

"The thing will strangle him if we keep pulling," I said. "Bastard is really stuck on there."

"How about cutting it?" asked Tompkins. "Norton, do you think that will work?"

"Well, it can't strangle him if it's dead," Norton replied.

There was a tense mood in the air, as Norton opened up her medical satchel. She reached for the laser scalpel and unlatched it from its velcro fastener. Strasburger remained motionless. The creature on his face was compressing and then expanding, like it was breathing, breathing for Strasburger? Norton pulled on her medical gloves and positioned the scalpel on the creature's dorsal section.

You could not see the concentrated laser that projected from the end of the scalpel. It was so finely concentrated it could cut through just about anything with total precision. Norton began to cut into the flesh of the creature. A cut along the length of the creature and we would be able to pull it apart. The laser penetrated the flesh and immediately the blood surged from the open wound. Norton was several centimeters into the cut before we realized our mistake.

This fucking creature didn't have blood, not in the sense we understood. The lime green fluid that coursed through its body was a highly concentrated acid. The cut made by Norton caused the acid to come pouring out. It got all over Norton's hands. She recoiled screaming in agony, as we watched the flesh melt from her fingers. Soon enough, the tendons and bones were exposed. Strasburger died convulsing violently. The creature's acidic blood drained onto his face and ate right through the flesh. Deal must've gotten the flash on his squad vitals monitor, because he was on the radio and in a fury asking why Strasburger flatlined.

Norton was screaming her fucking head off. One of her buddies from Collins' squad frantically tried to wrap her hands in bandages. The creature had stopped its breathing, most likely it was dead. You could start to see the flesh being stripped away from Strasburger's face, and soon the bone from his skull was exposed. The sight and the smell were fucking disgusting.

We all had to push our way out of the confined control room. The fumes from the acid eating through flesh and the floor were too much to stand. All of us were bent over and coughing; expelling the fumes from our lungs. Ramos and one of the younger Brits started puking from the sight. Collins and I each had Norton by a shoulder strap and were dragging her out. What the fuck were we up against? Not exactly the best time to stop and think about that.

Since Norton was our medic, we had to evacuate her back to the launchpad. The other medics in the company could treat her, or in the worse case, fly her back up to the _Grumman_ and put her back under cryo. That would keep her stable until we reached base and a surgeon. Tompkins made the call to have Norton brought to the APC and driven back to the launchpad.

Part of Norton's medical kit included a compacted stretcher. I braved the nauseating fumes to retrieve the med kit and brought it out. Once the stretcher was unfolded, we hoisted Norton onto it. I grabbed a syringe of morphine and jabbed the needle into her leg. That was enough to get her to stop screaming and relax. Collins grabbed a black marker from the bag too and inscribed the letter "M" for morphine on Norton's forehead.

Tompkins was on the radio, first to Deal to inform the Captain they had a casualty incoming, and then to Han to bring the APC up. Collins had the front end of the stretcher and one of the Brits stepped forward to help.

Ramos was an emotional wreck. I could see him with his face pressed against the glass looking at Strasburger's lifeless body. Tompkins had Deal screaming in his ear demanding updates, the Brit Sergeant was relentlessly hounding him about who would be assisting in locating the other Brits, and Nero was requesting orders. It had the Lieutenant a bit overburdened. Nero placed a hand on the Lieutenant's shoulder and looked him in the eye.

"Better secure things outside sir," Nero said reassuringly. "We'll begin our sweep in here."

Tompkins nodded. The answer seemed to satisfy the Brit Sergeant as well. I was over with Ramos, pulling the young Marine away from the glass. The best thing to do was send him in the APC with Norton, to keep an eye on her during the ride. Someone had to go along and it looked like Ramos needed a moment to calm down after seeing Strasburger get torn up like that. We'd wait until the APC got back and we finished our sweep before loading Strasburger's body in a bag. I had almost forgotten Lewis' bag we left at the admin building.

Collins and the Brit who helped her were coming back in, as I was sending Ramos out. He soon climbed aboard the APC and Han radioed to say she was on her way to the launchpad. Tompkins was beginning to get things organized here. The Lieutenant would remain in the control room with Collins, her Smargunner, Szymczak, and one of the Royal Marines. Their job would be to pull data from the laboratory logs to find out what the Chinese had been up to and what was known about the creatures.

The Brit Sergeant and two of his privates had point, as we set off to search for the rest of their comrades. They declined my placing of Sutton in the lead, dismissing the proven effectiveness of the M56 Smartgun. So, Sutton followed closely behind them, then came Nero, and I covered our six. We were headed into the depths of the facility.

The power was less functional down here, like someone cut a few breakers. We had to rely on the lamps mounted on our shoulders. I tried to radio to Collins and everyone in the control room about having them restore power, but couldn't raise them on comms. It seemed the deeper we went into the facility, the more the structure interfered with our signal. This shit was starting to get spooky, so I thought I'd try to find out what I could.

"Hey Sarge, we going the right way?" I called out.

Nero immediately turned around and was furious. I could see the anger radiating from his always cheery demeanor.

"You shut your fucking face, Morgan!" he snarled.

"Can't be too far ahead," the Brit Sergeant added. "At last contact, a squad said they heading toward the reactor room. That's when we starting losing contact."

"Comms are fucked down here," I added. "You sure they didn't just wander out of range?"

"MORGAN!" Nero shouted, as he grabbed one of my armor straps.

Apparently, my level of insubordination was making him look bad in front of the Brits. I honestly didn't give a fuck about Nero's image. End of June I was out of the Corps, he could blow me for all I cared. Most likely, the Brits got lost in the dark and got jumped by those worms or spiders or whatever. We knew to look out for the little fuckers. Good thing we had a Smartgun and I relieved Ramos of his flamer. Coming prepared meant squashing the bugs wouldn't be difficult. I could tell the Brits were getting a laugh at Nero's expense and that had his blood in a boil. If I could get him pissed enough, maybe he'd punch me in front of witnesses and I could spend my last days of service convalescing in an infirmary with a signed apology letter some General's secretary typed up. That would be nice.

Descending the last flight of stairs, I assumed we were on the bottom level, five down from the ground floor. It sure was an impressive facility. The initial briefing we were given said it was mainly a geology research lab to study uses of the minerals found, not only on _Aconis_ , but on the nearby worlds in this system. To see if they could provide an alternative fuel or even be weaponized, _Weyland-Yutani_ was leading in that regard.

A glowing marker sign with an arrow pointed the way to the reactor. It was the lead the Brits wanted to start off with. The bottom level was vastly different than the rest. The climate controls must've been malfunctioning or something; the air was boiling down here it was so fucking hot. The walls seemed pretty fucked too. It wasn't the standard exposed metal structure and piping from the prefabs. These walls were covered in a hardened resin substance. Parts of it were sticky in places. A curious Brit Private was furiously rubbing his hand on the side of pants after touching the wall. I kept my hands to myself, not wanting to make the same mistake.

I had the motion tracker out and scanning. It wasn't registering any movement. I turned up the sensitivity, so it would detect those bugs if they went crawling about. The confined hallway ran for a few meters to the door to the reactor room. One of the Brits was mashing the control panel to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. The power had probably been cut. Their Sergeant stepped forward and pulled the manual override bar. With a heavy pull, the door divided and spread apart. We stepped through and entered the reactor.

The large fusion chamber in the center of the room was not pulsing its vibrant flashes of blue, someone had shut it off. Not a wise thing to do without trained engineers present, as fusion reactors tend to go boom if not treated nicely. Kinda like this girl I dated back on _Kapteyn_. The room was dark, no emergency lighting to help us. We had to make the best of our shoulder lamps.

Scattered about the room was the most puzzling sight. All around were these rounded objects like eggs or something. They had this leather-like texture to them. The Brits had their motion tracker out and actively scanning. It was registering the signals given off by locators worn by the Royal Marines. I couldn't pick them up because the Brits failed to disclose their frequency. It looked like they were picking up twenty plus of the locators on their tracker, but we couldn't see anything. Moving the light from my lamp over the interior of this room I could see the walls here were covered in the same hardened resin. Between that and the eggs it didn't take a genius to point out we were in a nest of some sort.

"It's like a nest of some sort," said the Brit Sergeant.

One of his Marines approached an egg. The egg seemed to peel back its four flaps on its top automatically; the act which lured the Brit Marine toward it. He was curious about this egg and wanted a closer look. Out of nowhere, my motion tracker lit up like a fucking jackpot. The screen was reading numerous moving targets, so numerous they filled the screen.

"Hey Sarge," I called to Nero. "Pick up a shit ton of movement on the tracker."

"Sutton, what do you see?" Nero asked.

"Not a damn thing," Sutton replied. "My IR tracker is reading nil."

"They're all around us," I exclaimed.

At that moment there was an awful screech. From the interior of the egg leapt one of those spider bugs with the tail. It hatched, I guess, from the egg and threw itself onto the curious Brit. In a split second, it affixed itself to Brit's face. The Brit Sergeant raced forward and desperately tried to pull the thing off his comrade's face. I turned and flashed my lamp on the wall. The walls were fucking moving. I could see things, they weren't little bugs, no, and these things were well over two meters long. Elongated shapes crawling along the walls, hissing an awful screech. The others didn't seem to notice them, and these things were everywhere. The other Brit had a flamer in his hands. The sight of his friend attack by one of those face clenchers threw him into a state. He cranked up his flamer and fired it at the eggs; setting several alight. That only sent the creatures into a frenzy.

One leapt down from the wall. We could see its outline in the shadow given off by the flames. It crushed the Brit under its body ad began to claw at the struggling man. Another raced forward at seized the Brit Sergeant in a strong grip. The last we saw of him, he was being dragged away by the creature.

Nero, Sutton, and I weren't about to wait around to establish an observation of this species, we fucking booked it. We were close to the door that we were able to slip through. The fucking creatures were mad as hell. They gave chase, as if motivated by revenge for the egg burning or a lust for blood. Possibly the two combined. Sutton was the last through, as he was covering us with the Smartgun. The burst of rounds from the deadly support weapon tore through several of the onrushing creatures. The retreat into the hallway served as a bottleneck to our advantage. Only a few of the creatures could enter at a time, yet they persisted.

"These things have no fucking heat signature," shouted Sutton. "Gun tracking can't pick them up."

It meant the targeting computer for his weapon could not track and auto-lock onto the creatures for lack of an infrared signature. Sutton was forced to manually let loose his hail of fire. We bolted down the hallway with Sutton covering our withdraw. The close quarters worked to the advantage of the Smartgun, which only let so many of the creatures advance at a time. I won't deny it, I was fucking scared and running as fast as I could to the stairs. Nero was not far behind. I have to say, those creatures are fucking smart.

There was a break in the vent just above our heads. The grate buckled and then fell to the floor. Nero felt the long boney arm of creature reach down. Luckily, he stepped to the side and avoided being grabbed. In a panic, the Sarge brought his pulse rifle around and pointed it toward the opening in the vent. He pulled the trigger and let an automatic burst of round tear into the opening at the creature. The creature screamed from the multiple impacts of the explosive tipped rounds tearing through its exoskeleton. Unfortunately, the thing was bleeder.

The acidic blood of the creature fell from the vent, like a shower head. It completely covered Nero's upper body. Quickly, it set about dissolving his helmet and eating through his flesh. Nero was screaming and desperately clawing at his armor and skin to bat the acid off. I didn't like the guy, but he didn't deserve this. I could only watch in shock, there was nothing I could've done. In a matter of seconds the screams had stopped and Nero hit the deck, dead.

The acid blood that had drenched Nero had also splashed on me. I could feel my left arm burning, the flesh searing. It wasn't in a quantity to completely melt the skin off, but it fucking burned. The skin on my arms is still deformed from it.

Sutton had expended the ammunition in his Smartgun's drum magazine. The creatures could tell he wasn't cutting down any more of their number and decided to rush forward. They were converging at every angle; crawling on the walls and the ceiling. Sutton was fumbling with a spare drum magazine on his belt, as they drew nearer. The creatures were within a few feet when Sutton realized it was more feasible to draw his sidearm. He fired wildly, as the creatures overtook him. They were like sharks in a feeding frenzy; clawing and tearing at his flesh. I will say he fought them to the bitter end, as I could still hear shots from the pistol even as the swarm completely covered where he stood.

The creatures seemed preoccupied with Sutton. I already had a grenade round chambered in my M41A. My left arm being badly burned, I could not rake the slide and load another one. I pointed it toward the devouring swarm and squeezed the launcher trigger mounted on the magazine. The grenade impacted on the grouping of creatures and blew a good number of the fuckers apart. I was at the far end of the corridor, right at the entrance to the stairs. It was far enough out of range to avoid the blast and any acid spatter, but the concussion knock out my fucking hearing. Yeah, that's why they spent a whole lecture in CQB training talking about not using the grenade launcher in confined spaces.

I didn't devote any of my time to revel in my kill, no; I fucking booked it up the stairs. At every landing I reached, I pulled a grenade round from the bandolier slung over my shoulder. These M40 HEDP grenade rounds have a handy detonator plunger on the cap. You can depress it, hurl it at an enemy, and let it explode. It is the perfect hand grenade in a pinch. I'd throw a grenade down the stairwell to keep the creatures busy. I kept it up, as I ascended the stairs and finally reached the main level.

 **000**

The control room was coming into view. I could see Collins running toward me, I'm guessing the explosions tipped them off. Tompkins stormed out after with the Brit private, who remained, and Szymczak in tow.

"Morgan, what the hell happened!?" asked Collins, stepping forward check my arm.

I hadn't realized just how bad it was. The burn wounds were still exuding plumes of white steam. The pain was absolutely the worst. Collins had a genuine look of concern in her eyes. We were close it's true, but I don't want her remembered exclusively in this narrative for that. I stopped for a moment, however, it was comforting to have her there. Then soon, the sense of urgency, the desperation returned. I looked to Collins, to the rest.

"We need to get the fuck out of here!" I shouted. "L.T. call us an APC, we need mechanized evac, we'll never outrun them!"

"Calm down, Morgan," Tompkins said. "We lost your comm signal. Where are Nero and the others?"

"Did you not just fucking hear me!? We need to go now!"

I will admit I was acting a little hysterical. When you come face to face with those creatures and watch them rip someone apart or melt them with their blood, I bet you'll be hysterical too. The only thing I had my mind on was running out of there, to the outside. I stepped forward and immediately felt Collins holding me precariously, so as to not further aggravate the burns all over my arm. That's when I felt a heavy hand across my face.

"Corporal!" shouted Tompkins after the blow. "Look at me Morgan! Where are the others?"

"They're dead," I uttered, solemnly. "And we'll be dead too if we don't get the fuck out of here."

"Dammit Morgan! What is it? Was it more of those wormlike things? How many?"

Tompkins questioning was interrupted by the emergence of one of them. It was one of the creatures that had been in pursuit, but it was alone. Either a lone survivor or the bastards were smart enough to send one to recon and report. It stood at the end of the corridor I had just sprinted down; slowly sulking over the last step of the stairwell. We were completely in awe, as we stared it down. The thing was looking back at us. Through the shadows we could make out the creature's hardened exoskeleton and elongated skull. It stood completely upright on its hind legs, Christ it must've been eight feet tall or more. Then the creature made the most awful hiss. Taunting us almost, knowing we would soon meet a fate equal to that of our compatriots.

I wasn't having any of its shit. I brushed Collins aside and stepped clear of the grouping of Marines. My M41A sling was over my right shoulder. I used the strap to balance, since the left arm was fucked, as I gripped it in my right hand. Then, I squeezed the trigger and let out an automatic burst. The shots were wild and inaccurate, but I kept it up. A few struck their target, causing the creature to draw back from the bullet impacts.

It was furious and had set to charge us. Szymczak took a cue from my actions and stepped forward. He was an experienced Smartgunner and knew to shoot manually when the auto targeting system did not get a lock, rather than making the fact known. His weapon roared with the hum of pulse ignited case less ammunition. The rounds made their way to the target, impacting the creature across what I assume was its thorax. The yellow bodily fluid erupted from the wounds and doused the floor around it in the sizzling acidic substance.

"What the fuck was that thing?" Tompkins.

"The fuck if I know," I answered. "But there's dozens of them, maybe a hundred downstairs. They wasted the Brits, Nero, Sutton. We're next if we don't fucking get the hell out."

" _Outlaw one_ ," Deal's voice cracked over the radio. " _Disengage, repeat disengage! I don't know what the fuck that thing was, but I want you and your men to withdraw. Regroup at launchpad until we formulate a strategy on how to engage those xenos_."

The appearance of that thing was all the convincing we needed to book it. The Brit Marine was the first one down the hallway to the exit; couldn't expect him to stick around and help. Collins had her arm around my back to help support me, I honestly didn't need it, but wasn't about to turn it down. Tompkins was screaming furiously into his headset; calling Deal for an APC to pick us up. We sent ours to ferry the wounded Norton back to the launchpad. Deal responded swiftly. The Captain was tuned into the video feed and saw Szymczak waste the creature.

Offering support was Szymczak. The Smartgunner was always the first one in and the last one out. Such was the disposition of the life of a Smartgunner. Szymczak inched backward slowly. The collective screeches of the creatures echoed through the corridors. We could not see them, but we knew they were coming. It was time for us to leave.

In a short time we were through the door of the complex and on the grounds within the perimeter fence. Collins paused briefly, once Szymczak had exited, to punch the door control panel to shut and then smash it with the butt of her pulse rifle. I was on my own and able to walk just fine. We were in a collective dash for the front gate. Sprinting at full speed, though my left arm hung loosely. The pain was overwhelming. Just outside the gate I felt my knees become weak and buckle.

"L.T." I heard Collins call out, as she rushed to me. "Morgan's hurt bad, his arm's burned or something."

"I'm fine, Jess," I told her, a lie. "I'll make it."

Tompkins was scanning the area nervously. The lab complex sat isolated, several kilometers from the main colony and the launchpad. It would take some time for the APC to reach us. Collins was already hard at work tending to my arm. She pulled a medical wrap from the thigh pocket on her fatigues and a small elongated box. Working quickly, she tightly wound the synthetic fabric over my burns until they were completely covered. Opening the box revealed a single shot syringe of amphetamine for emergency usage; when a Marine needs to be on the move and not high of their ass tripping on morphine.

Collins jabbed the syringe into my right thigh and discarded it when it emptied. I felt the rush of the drug immediately take effect. The strength returned to my legs and a surge of energy had me on my feet. It was not a moment too soon. The screech of the creatures caught our attention.

On the roof of lab building we just evacuated we could see them. They were crawling; pulling themselves out of some ventilation shaft. One stood up on its hind legs and surveyed us. The thing let out that menacing screech. I was having none of that shit, however. The strength back in my left arm, I held my pulse rifle up and took aim. A brief squeeze of the trigger let loose a burst of rounds. The creature convulsed and spun around from the impacts. It lost its balance and fell the few stories to the ground with an audible thud.

There was no time revel in the kill; more of the creatures were coming. They crawled over the sides of the roof and descended the building's façade, head first. This is when I noticed different sets among the creatures. Most of the ones I'd seen had a dark, metallic hue. Now, I noticed several more brown in color, with contorted leg joints the way four legged animals would. These new ones were faster. We decided it was best to run and made for the forest. A heavily wooded area stood between us and the launchpad. The main road did not have a direct route to the launchpad; routing through the colony settlement. Our best chance was to trek through the woods and hope we could outrun the bastards.

The creatures descended the walls much faster than we could have imagined. We were through the main gate with no time to stop and throw the leaver to close it. Not that it would've made much difference with the ease of how those things could climb. Every so often, Szymczak would turn and let out a burst from his Smartgun. It was a valiant, albeit vain effort, to hamper the creatures' onslaught.

The darkness of the night sky enveloped the forest, as we entered. We fumbled around in the dark, the light from our shoulder mounted lamps swinging back and forth. In hindsight, it probably would've been best to have turned off the lamps. A welcome voice over the radio told us the APCs were a few minutes out; cutting across open terrain to get to us faster. To help in the darkness, we all pulled down and switched on the infrared reticules just behind our helmet brim. Damn creatures had some spooky alien shit going on with them because not one showed up on the IR. A swing of the lamp light illuminated a few of those brown ones, I mentioned earlier, scaling the trees.

The trek through the woods was slow going. We were hampered by the thick brush and constantly scanning for the creatures. When they'd get too close, and I mean they maxed out the motion tracker, we stop, get into cover, and start shooting.

We blasted apart trees in our effort to kill as many as we could and drive them back. It was futile effort because they kept coming. The discipline collapsed and it was evident every man was on their own. A last burst from each of us and we all took off running. Collins and I stayed together, but we were separated from the rest.

It was pitch black to the point where we could barely see the path ahead. A horrendous wail caught our attention and we looked to see the source. Only a few meters to our left one of those brown runner creatures leapt from a tree and landed on Tompkins. The creature had the Lieutenant pinned and fighting for his life. The last glimpse I caught was the creature, its elongated tail coiling, impaling Tompkins with the barbed point. One forceful thrust through the gut had Tompkins let out an agonized screech. I watched his resistance weaken and his body go limp.

What I can remember next was running. I ran as fast as I could; jumping over the culverts and maneuvering between the trees. The sounds from those things were all around; closing in. I tried to force them out of my head and just focus on running. Collins was still with me and then Szymczak crashed through some thick vegetation.

Szymczak had a haggard and beaten look on his face. He had stopped running and just stood before us trying to regain his breath. The Smartgun looked to have been torn from its rig, as Szymczak only held a pistol. There was blood draining from his mouth when he took each breath. A deep diagonal cut, through his chest plate, had slashed open his stomach. The expression on his face reached out to us, silently calling for help. A large hand reached over Szymczak's shoulder. The digits of the creature were boney tipped with razors that dug into the flesh. Szymczak did not have a chance to scream, or maybe he couldn't if he wanted to, before the creature forcefully pulled him back into the vegetation. It was the last we saw of Szymczak.

Collins was incensed and desperate. Szymczak was part of her squad, her responsibility. She started to head off after the creature that took him away. I had to seize Collins with a firm grip.

"He's gone Jess!" I shouted to her. "There's nothing we can do."

There was no response from her, only a look of contempt. We didn't stick around to debate it; more of those things were coming. Once again we were running desperately. A faint dim of light shone just ahead. Finally, those fuckers in the APCs had arrived. There was still a bit of ground to cover between us and the lights. I had a few M40 grenade rounds left clipped to the webbing on my chest plate.

Collins fired her last few grenades from the launcher on her rifle. I removed the grenades from their clips. One by one, I tapped the detonator plunger on the top of the round and hurled it in direction of the pursuing creatures. The manual detonators activated a three second fuse. A succession of explosions tore through the forest we had just traversed. I could hear the creatures shriek in agony; at least what I think was their form of agony. Point is the grenades were shredding the bastards.

The ground in front of us slopped downward and opened to a large clearing. The two APCs sat still with their floodlights coving the area. The Marine section deployed from one, while the door from the other swung open. A defensive perimeter was formed, as we navigated our way to the await aid. I saw that Brit Marine was already cautiously approaching their line, his arms raised. We lose how many of our guys, but he makes it.

The APCs were only several meters from us. That's when we heard Sergeant Benson scream for us to hit the deck. A quick glance over my shoulder and I could see dozens of the creatures. They dashed from the cover of the woods and started down the hill. Collins and I complied with the order and dove to the ground. Every Marine in the section and the APCs opened up with everything they had. The rounds flew over our heads and toward the foe. Several of the creatures were struck and fell. The turret cannons and auto-guns on the APCs blew the sloping terrain apart. The exploding plasma rounds were particularly effective. Collins started to crawl forward and kicked me in the good shoulder as a sign to follow.

The shooting lasted for several moments until the ceasefire order was given. The _Orbital Hawk_ buzzed low over the AO and pinged away with its motion tracker. Since the thermals couldn't pick those things up, we had to rely on our motion tracking tech, meaning the _Orbital Hawk_ had to come in low to take readings. I was escorted over to Sergeant Benson, as he viewed the UAV's results on a tablet. The swarm of creatures dissipated and headed back toward the facility.

"Where's Lieutenant Tomkins?" the Sergeant inquired. "And the rest of your section?"

"Where do you think?" I responded, annoyed.

I walked away from Benson, dismissingly, and made for the empty APC. It was sent over with only a driver in expectation of carrying our section. Too bad, there were only three survivors. Deal was anxious to speak with us, and the Brit. He ordered us brought back immediately. The medic from Benson's section climbed aboard our APCs. He immediately went to work applying a medical gel and redressing the bandages. The vehicle turned and made for the launchpad. I was seated next to Collins, with her to my right. The Brit sat down in a secluded corner at the rear of the compartment. We were physically drained and honestly terrified from encounter with those things. I placed by head back in chair and shut my eyes. Before I fell asleep for the power nap, I felt Collins grasp my right hand with her left.

 **000**

The launchpad was a hive of activity. Though it was night, tarmac was fully illuminated by the landing flood lights that ringed the perimeter. One of the dropships must've returned to the _Grumman_ and come back with a field generator. It was the size of large car and could keep the place powered. The side door of the APC being slid open is what woke me up. It was Reagan, the Synthetic, standing there expressionless. He gestured for us to follow him over to Deal.

The civilian colonists had all been grouped together in the main craft hangar. They were kept there for their safety, and to make sure no saboteurs hidden among their number could cause any further damage. The fucking Chinese saboteurs were the least of our problems.

Deal was standing over a table with Lieutenant Edmonds. The table was situated under an awning affixed to the side of Deal's APC. This was the makeshift headquarters. There was also a civilian with them and by their appearance looked to be someone of importance. Come to find out he was Carrion, Director of all _Seegson_ Operations on the planet. I followed Reagan with my helmet tucked under my good arm. My left arm had been thoroughly bandaged and treated. It felt a whole hell of a lot better. The Brit was being led along with us. I kept a suspicious watch on him. If those fuckers had just cooperated, we wouldn't be in this mess, Strasburger, Tompkins, and even Nero would be alive.

"What the hell happened out there Corporal?" Deal asked, frustration in his voice.

"Take a fucking look for yourself," I said, as I threw my helmet onto the table.

I was referring to the camera mounted on the side of the helmet. Of course Deal had watched the live stream of the events as they happened in real time. I was angry and lost my temper. Edmonds turned and was ready to snap at me for my insubordination. Deal put up a hand to stay the Lieutenant's wrath.

"It's not our day, Morgan," Deal said in a calming, almost fatherly tone. "The Chinese infiltration was far worse than we expected, the colonists are scared shitless, and we face an alien infestation from a species we know nothing about. One thing we could forgo is that attitude of yours."

"All due respect sir," I tried to compose myself. "Those creatures need to be our primary concern. The feed cut out when we were down there in depths of the lab. There are hundreds of those things and eggs. We stumbled onto a fucking nest. We pushed 'em back for now, but they'll be back, back for us all. I say we bug out back to the _Grumman_ and nuke the entire hemisphere!"

"Absolutely not!" Carrion interjected. "The _Seegson Corporation_ is heavily invested in the mining operations here. We have a bonded _ICC_ contract for mineral rights and exclusive resource extraction with an operation valued well over six trillion dollars. There will be absolutely no detonation of nuclear weapons on _Aconis_!"

"Fuck you, asshole!" I shouted. "Those things wasted my entire squad, my whole goddamn section. And they're going to come for us. Fuck your corporate holdings, we need to nuke the bastards now!"

The company rep was growing hysterical and turning red in the face. He must've been earning one hell of a revenue bonus to vehemently defend _Seegson's_ investment. I turned to the corporate pencil neck, ready to knock him one square in the jaw. Collins was standing next to me and could sense my frustration. She placed a hand on my shoulder to calm me down and bring me back to my senses. Deal was taken aback by my outburst, and somewhat embarrassed since a civilian was present. He had to regain control of the situation.

"Morgan, that is enough!" Deal shouted. "You are relieved. Get out of my sight!"

That was the first time I ever heard the old man yell. He very rarely got this worked up. Hell, I realized I may have pushed him. Before I could offer any objection to Deal's orders, Collins jerked me away by a tug on the arm. I could see the expression of anger on her face, as she dragged me away. Last I heard from Deal was the Brit Marine introducing himself as "Bashir".

 **000**

I was seated on a stack of ammunition crates. Collins was with me, though she seemed pretty pissed at my outburst in front of Deal. And Ramos had also joined us. The poor kid nervously clenched and clawed at his arms. The events from the facility had clearly overwhelmed him. He kept rambling about what happened to Strasburger and watching flesh melt from Norton's hands.

Reagan, the synthetic, casually strode over to where we were seated. The guy was as calm and collected as ever. I mean, what else could you expect from an android? We had wondered if Reagan ever experienced fear, paranoia, and panic, like we did. Were those feelings ever synthesized and installed in his head? Probably not, the lucky bastard. I did notice one odd expression given off by Reagan, it appeared inquisitive.

"Bullshit aside, Morgan," Reagan said, pulling out an ammo crate and using it as a seat. "What is your honest assessment of the hostile creatures?"

"We're fucked," I causally responded.

"I said bullshit aside. I want to know combat capabilities, physical attributes, you know the procedure for identifying alien organisms. I saw the video feeds; tough to kill and acidic bodily fluids acting as a defense mechanism."

"It's acid blood."

"You're xeno-biologist now?"

"They're seven feet tall, madder than hell, and burst out from peoples' insides."

The conversation was taking a visible toll on Ramos. The kid buried his face into his hands. Reagan was more curious than ever and hung onto every word I said. I went into detail telling him everything I knew. What happened when the Brit stuck his face in the egg, the little spider things that grab onto you, and how attacking the nest seemed to whip them into a frenzy. I also explained the types of the larger ones we saw. There were the darker, metallic grey ones that were meaner and stronger. And the browner ones, they were smaller, but they were fast and had a more animal build in the leg structure. Reagan was fascinated.

"So the whispers were true," Reagan uttered to himself, an unusual mannerism for an android.

"What the fuck are you talking about Reagan?" Collins added. "What whispers?"

" _Weyland-Yutani_ reports have made odd mentions of an alien species like the one you've described, like the one we're facing."

"What the hell are you getting at?" I asked the synthetic.

"I've transcribed the logs provided from the admin building and the _Wey-Yu_ lab. A correlation between the Colonial and Company accounts paints a clearer picture of what exactly we're dealing with.

Reagan seemed almost delighted at the opportunity to discuss the situation. The topic was one he shared with enthusiasm. He leaned forward on the ammunition case and spoke up to our group,

"Apparently, a Company survey team recovered four of the alien eggs. There was no mention of where they were acquired or how, simply orders from an unspecified source to bring the eggs here because of the sophisticated laboratory. This location was the closest _Weyland-Yutani_ could get the specimen to Earth without passing the quarantine line. Someone researcher at the lab made a big screw up and replied with an improperly coded acknowledgment transmission. The Chinese could've easily intercepted the reply and it is more than likely it led them here. Now, connecting with security logs of the lab complex with the records from the Colonial Marshal corroborates the timeline and the confession made by the captured Chinese saboteur. The final entries in the lab's security log indicate an armed infiltration and breech of the specimen containment. The Chinese entered the lab and, most likely not knowing what they were dealing with, allowed the specimen out."

"Christ, another fucking manmade disaster," uttered Collins.

"So how do we stop them," I asked Reagan.

"I'm not sure we can," Reagan pessimistically responded. "Are you familiar with Special Order 11-18?"

"You can't be fucking serious?"

"What the hell is that?" asked Ramos. Special orde…"

"Special Order 11-18," I added. "It is a military directive that authorizes the use of nuclear weapons against a friendly populated settlement to contain/eliminate a hostile alien outbreak with any and all casualties deemed acceptable."

"Fucking Christ!" Ramos exclaimed.

There was a tense silence between the four of us. All of our eyes shifted to Reagan, but his gaze was fixed on me. The synthetic reached down and picked up my helmet from where it rested on the ground. He shoved the helmet into my hands, as he stood up.

"You know our situation," Reagan began. "If the trigger needs to be pulled, I hope to know where you stand."

Reagan departed after that last ominous utterance. We sat quietly and contemplated his words. Reagan had already run every single conceivable scenario. He knew the ending before the game had been played. If you gave it some serious thought, you could see it as well. Why did I get the feeling he was telling us something, a warning?

I looked over at one of the UD-4Ls starting to spin up its engines. Two Marines worked quickly to mount a machine gun tripod and the weapon itself on the end of the dropship's lowered ramp, effectively adding a close support weapon. I overheard some spooked Marines say Benson's section was in trouble and requesting air support. Collins was still pissed, but she knew the seriousness of our situation. We both gave each other a nod of understanding and immediately broke open an ammunition case. Collins and I grabbed as many magazines as we could. I even tossed a few to the nervous Ramos. The _Cheyenne_ fired its engines and was soon airborne.

"We make for the APC," I spoke firmly to the group. "Everyone is going to panic and rush the dropships. They'll be swamped by the panicking civys and unable to takeoff. Best chance is the APC and driving somewhere secure."

"Jesus Christ, were going to fucking die, aren't we!?" a terrified Ramos uttered.

"Shut the hell up Ramos!" snapped Collins. "Just stay close to me and Morgan, and you'll be fine."

No sooner had the dropship buzzed off then the call came across our radio channels. The _Orbital Hawk_ had just completed a low pass. A anxious grunt watching a data screen of the UAV's motion tracker feed saw a large swarm of movement converging on the launchpad. The order had gone out to beat to quarters.

Marines bolted for the perimeter fence where the horde was reportedly approaching. We had set up auto-sentries earlier in the day to defend the tarmac. Before the Marines could get into position, the sentry turrets opened fire. The distinctive screech of the creatures pierced the air. So long as I live I will never forget that sound. It is enough to give you nightmares to haunt a thousand lifetimes.

We had a platoon to guard the tarmac. A little over twenty heavily armed Marines against an entire horde of those things. Nobody thought to question it; we were much too preoccupied to ask what happened to Benson's section. I figured they were gone.

Some of the guys began to open fire into the darkness beyond the launchpad perimeter. They fired in whatever direction the tracer rounds from the sentry turrets went. It was ineffective, like this resistance we were about to mount. I heard the Smartgunners announce they could not get an IR trace on the hostiles. Was nobody paying attention earlier?

The three of us held back from the front line. It was death wish to head right toward those things. I studied the turrets. Their field of fire shifted across a spectrum. The creatures were fanning out, as more sentries came online and opened fire. Those fucking creatures were surrounding us.

I could the silhouettes of creatures against the backdrop of the night. The shadows moved swiftly, menacingly. The auto-sentries tried to keep up, killing several. It was impossible to stop that many. We up against a cleaver foe, a single creature at a time would charge headlong at a sentry turret. It would draw the fire away from the concentrated group; expending precious ammunition on the self-sacrificing xeno. It also drew the fire of the Marines.

The swarm had us outflanked and prepared to strike. Their main thrust was concentrated at the point in the wire closest to the hangar. It was like they could sense the mass of colonists huddled in the structure for their safety. The lead elements of the xeno horde scaled the fence like it was nothing. They were over the barrier and crashed through the rear entrance of the hangar.

The screams of terrified colonists echoed throughout the large structure. The comm channels filled up with Marines shouting. Deal was trying to retain order and control, but it was a deteriorating situation. The Captain tried to direct Marines from the line to support the colonists in the hangar. We were under attack from every side and there weren't enough of us to hold them back. When the last sentry turret went dry all hell broke loose.

The creatures were over the fence and on the tarmac. A surge of fleeing colonists burst from the main doors of the hangar. They desperately climbed over one another to escape the frenzy within. I could only imagine what horrors were occurring. The colonists, what was left of them, were packed inside and completely unarmed. They never stood a chance. The worst fucking image was seeing the creatures dragging some of the colonists away, still alive, still kicking and screaming.

We stuck to the plan and made for the nearest APC. It happened to be the one to which our section was assigned. Han was already in the driver's seat and prepping the cannons. Just as I had expected, those who were still alive made for the dropships. The pilots barely had any time to start the engines on their birds. A wave of humanity clambered over the ramp and into the interior bay. The creatures were fast and gave pursuit. We could do nothing, but watch the creatures push their way onto the dropships.

Two dropships were completely overrun by the creatures before they could takeoff. The xenos went to work tearing apart everyone inside. The third dropship, somehow, managed to get airborne. It was in rough shape. People, both colonists and Marines, clung to the ramp, the landing struts, anything they could hold. The dropship was maybe a few meters off the ground; the engines were struggling to spin up to full with the short takeoff procedure. One creature after another, the runner type, leapt onto the dorsal section of the dropship. It was incredible; they covered the height with little effort. I'm not sure what they were doing on the top of the dropship, don't think they knew either.

The pilot banked hard left to pull up and away from the ground. She was completely oblivious to the fact of the xeno passengers on top. When the pilot hit the thrusters to full, the air intake suction power increased. The force pulled two maybe three of the creatures into the turbine. The bodies of the creatures banged around the engine machinery; tearing it apart. There was a loud explosion, as the starboard thruster was engulfed in flames. Thick plumes of black smoke shot into the air. The dropship was banking to the left, using the vertical jets for lift. With the loss of the starboard thruster, the starboard lift jets gave out. The ship could not sustain lift with loss of the starboard lift jets. The starboard side began to fall and the dropship started to roll. Before the pilot could switch to horizontal flight, the ship had rolled too far over. It was unrecoverable and she was going down. In only a few seconds, the dropship slammed dorsal section first into the tarmac. The craft exploded with the ordinance adding to the blast. The crash killed everyone onboard and a few dozen on the ground.

We had troubles of our own without having to focus on the dropships. It was pure chaos. The creatures were all around of us. We fired in every direction, as they drew nearer. Three Marines over by the hangar, two riflemen and a Smartgunner, opened fire on a group of the creatures dispersed amongst fleeing colonists. They fired indiscriminately into the crowd, cutting down xeno and human alike. Similar scenes played out all over the tarmac. The Marines were targeting creatures and not giving a damn about collateral damage.

The creatures had us outnumbered, plain and simple. Deal was over by his command APC. He had thrown the table aside and worked furiously to pack as many of the colonists aboard as he could. In one hand, Deal fired his pistol and pulled colonists with the other. It all happened so fast. One moment, Deal was shooting and then he was lifted into the air. The long tail of a creature protruded through the Captain's gut. One of the colonists aboard the APC tried to close the door, but it wouldn't budge. The vehicle was overloaded and the doorway blocked by people trying to hang on.

The driver tried to start motor. The creatures made an aggressive thrust and dove through the wall of colonists. The xenos clawed their way through the interior; hacking apart flesh. The APC never moved. It was completely covered by the creatures. They slashed at some of the colonists, others they dragged away. It was horrendous.

Our APC was in the centermost point of the tarmac, meaning it was the furthest away from all the commotion. It would take longer for the creatures to actually reach us. Two Marine privates and three colonists raced toward our APC. Ramos was already aboard and taking a seat. Collins and myself stood just outside the APC's door and fired our pulse rifles. There were a few creatures that broke from the main horde to advance on our vehicle. We gunned them down with carefully aimed fire. It was enough to buy the five humans time to reach us and climb aboard. Once aboard, I shouted for Collins to get in and I followed, closing the door. Should we have tried to pick up more? Maybe, only nine of us were aboard. Could we have tried? Hell no! A few seconds after I locked the door we heard several heavy impacts against the APC's side. The creatures were throwing themselves against the vehicle; trying to break in.

I turned and shouted at Han to get us the fuck out of here. She didn't need to be told twice and mashed down on the accelerator. Collins assumed the officer's chair at the terminal bank and brought the weapon targeting systems online. While we sped away, Collins fired the APC's turrets at the creatures. A few of the xenos jumped in front of us, but Han simply ran them down. The weight of the APC easily crushed the exoskeletons. The external gun camera picked up vehicle movement. Another APC was able to escape as well.

"Morgan, where we are going?" Han shouted from the driver's seat.

"Take us to the admin building," I responded, climbing to a spot right behind her. "We can barricade ourselves in the ops room while we try to call in the last dropship to get us."

"We saw firsthand how that worked out!" Ramos shouted out. "Bugs still got in and wasted everyone. We're fucking dead!"

"Shut the hell up Ramos!" Collins interrupted.

"Jess," I turned back to Collins. "Can you raise the drop? Tell them we need immediate extract from the roof. And see if you can get a channel to that other APC."

Collins did not need to make the effort. Right after I finished talking, I heard Reagan's voice over my headset radio.

" _Morgan, I assume that is you?_ " the synthetic said over the radio.

"Goddammit Reagan," I replied, fumbling with the helmet microphone.

" _Glad you made it out. Including myself, we have ten souls onboard._ "

"We're hauling nine and making for the admin building for extract."

" _My thoughts exactly. Take your APC and blockade the front entrance; I will do the same for the rear. Rendezvous in ops._ "

"Acknowledged."

I tilted my helmet back, so that it rested more comfortably on my head. I stepped over to Collins and balanced myself with a hand on the back of her chair. While I conversed with Reagan, she had a chat with the pilot of the last remaining dropship.

"You're not going to fucking believe this," said Collins.

"What is it?" I asked. "Where's our ride."

"Back on the _Grumman_."

"Are you fucking serious!? What the hell are they doing there!?"

"Apparently rearming. It's that asshole Griggs' bird. And Rothkowitz, that gung-ho motherfucker weapons officer of his can't resist blowing all sorts of shit up. Fired just about every rocket in their complement."

"They don't need missiles to pick us up. We aren't taking on an armored battalion. Tell them to get back here now!"

"You don't think I know that!?" Collins was irritated. "I told them to drop what they were doing and get us. While running a post-flight check, they discovered a fault in one of their stabilizer intakes. They can't launch until it gets fixed."

Everyone was staring at Jess and me, clearly they were listening in. I was frustrated by the turn of events and slammed a fist into the bulkhead. That dropship was our only way to get off of this planet. You really had to hope Flight Officer Griggs and W.O. Rothkowitz knew what they were doing. The stabilizers on the _Cheyennes_ were known to fail on occasion. The faults were easy to spot and you had a fair window to set down before total failure occurred. The bitch of it was the repair. It was a minimum twelve hour replacement job, or more depending on the extent. With any sense, Griggs and Rothkowitz would bring two of the maintenance drones aboard ship online to assist in the repairs. Long story short, we'd be sitting tight for awhile.

 **000**

The drive from the launchpad to the admin building was rather uneventful. The creatures had all the warm bodies to feed on back at the tarmac to keep them busy. We seemed like less of a priority. I tried not to think about the people still alive that were left behind. Pulling up to the front door, Han rammed the APC right through the barricade of junk. The crash threw us all around the vehicle's interior.

We all quickly evacuated and made our way through the building's front. I enlisted the help of the civilians and Ramos to carry two large crates. One crate contained several spare pulse rifles and the other was packed with extra ammunition. Rations were what we lacked. Collins set the APC's turrets to auto-sentry mode, to engage any of the creatures that approached. Afterwards, we locked up the vehicle, what it being a bad neighborhood and all, and went inside the admin building.

The two Marines that joined us, Erickson and Iqbal, I ordered to seal the front door with their hand welders. Reagan checked in via the radio to report that his group had arrived, sealed up the back entrance, and were moving toward ops. Up the narrow stairs and the winding corridors, covered in blast marks and debris we made our way toward the operations room. I still had Ramos helping the civilians with carrying the boxes. Those ammunition crates can be unwieldy and get heavy after a minute of dragging up stairs. I figured it would be a good task to keep Ramos busy and his mind off the creatures. Rather him griping about the weight than the situation.

You can call bullshit on any one of us who said they weren't scared. Even that famous Colonial Marine bravado wasn't coming through. We went in thinking this was another fucking bug hunt, didn't figure on getting our asses kicked. Honestly, I've never been more scared in my time in the Corps than I was now. Even that shit that went down on _Erdani_ wasn't this bad, and that was a fucking bloodbath.

I was first in our group to enter the control room. Reagan was already there with his people. Apart from the synthetic, there was only one other military who made out on their APC. It was that fucking Brit, the Royal Marine. How that cocksucker made it when so many of our guys didn't still pisses me off till this day. The other eight were all civilians. I'd come to find out they were all mineral engineers or machinery technicians for _Seegson_ , working at the large mining operation. Not much good in a shooting fight, well, we could hope they could pick up pointing a pulse rife in the general direction of a creature at least.

"We've secured the rear door," Reagan began in his droll voice. "The APC is set to sentry. I'm afraid it will not be going anywhere, however. One of the creatures's secreted its acidic fluid upon impact with the vehicle. It has eaten through the engine compartment and destroyed several motor functions. We nervously had to coast into the spot."

"Thank you Reagan," I responded. "Captain Deal is dead, one of the creatures got him."

"Yes, I saw."

"So who is in command? Was there any word from Lieutenant Edmonds? The other non-coms?"

All of the eyes of the survivors we on me, I had apparently asked and answered my question. There was an expressionless look from Reagan, neither approving nor disapproving. It was a simple nod of acknowledgement, a subtle salute to my authority.

"That puts you in command, numb-nuts," Collins grumbled. "You're highest ranking."

Fuck, that isn't something you're expecting every day. I sorta froze up on the spot, my mind locked. Yes, I commanded before, had Marines under me, but there were three of them, easily managed. Also, the omnipresent Nero was there to bark the orders, give directions; I just had to tell my guys to carry them out. You know, easy shit. But now, I had seventeen people looking at me for direction, for survival, shit. I didn't ask for fucking command and I wish Reagan would just step to give orders. Of course that was not an option, damn treaty, even though he had the knowledge and could think and calculate a thousand times quicker than a human. Interstellar military accords forbade the use of androids in an offensive or leadership capacity. They were strictly relegated, programmed, to offer support and advisement.

"Lance-Corporal Collins is correct," Reagan uttered in his damn tone. "As all other leadership is killed, incapacitated, or otherwise unreachable, the command of the operation has fallen to you."

Though Reagan did not show it, his processor of a brain was working, recording the situation. He would later enter it into the mission log for everyone to know it was now my command. I didn't know what was worse now, my actions recorded for military commanders to further scrutinize everything I did or did not do, or having those creatures burst through the doors and rip us to shreds. Both seemed equally unfavorable.

"Jesus Christ, we're all going to fucking die here!" Ramos let an outburst through.

"Shut the hell up, Ramos!" Han interjected. "Nobody is interested in your whining like a little bitch!"

"Fuck you!"

"He's got a point," said Private Erickson. "We're as good as wasted."

The group had devolved into squabbles over our desperate situation. Even the civilians joined in the shouting with various jab at the military's ineffectiveness and a clear waste of their tax dollars, etcetera. Collins turned to me with a scowl. It was a look of condemnation; dissatisfaction in my handling of things. It was time to organize and figure something out.

"Alright!" I shouted, though nobody seemed to listen. "ALRIGHT!"

I stepped forward, grabbed Ramos, as he was closest to me, and jerked him violently aside. The action combined with my vociferous address caught their attention. The survivors fell silent.

"First off, everyone needs to calm the fuck down!" I started. "This pussy panicking shit is no longer gonna fly. You want to bitch about it, you step outside, ain't one of us gonna stop you. Now, the drop is shipside getting worked on. These types of repairs take about twelve to twenty-four hours to accomplish."

I heard a collective grumble from the survivors.

"Hey!" I shouted to redirect their attention. "That means we're digging in and fortifying this position until the drop can get back planetside to pick us up. Iqbal, take two of the civilians and conduct a sweep of the building's forward quadrant. Check for any weaknesses in the wall and any entrances the creatures could exploit. Han, you do the same for the rear quadrant."

Both Iqbal and Han nodded and understood their task at hand. Their eyes quickly scanned the crowd of colonists; mentally selecting the ones best fit to accompany them. I turned to Erickson next.

"Erickson," I said. "Have the rest of the civilians help you break out the pulse rifles and go over a quick weapons familiarization with them. Collins, select three of the most weapons proficient colonists and Erickson and conduct a room by room sweep of the lower levels. Any questions?"

There was not a word spoken by anyone in the room. I took the silence as a sign they knew their tasks and what to do. I figured it would keep them busy and not sitting around, contemplating the creatures swarming the building. I dismissed the group and the Marines leapt into action. They pushed through the group, snatching up their ideal volunteers. I turned and made for a ladder in the corner of the control room. The top of the ladder led to a heavy steel hatch with marking indicating roof access. My plan was to survey our surroundings from an elevated position. Reagan followed.

"How are we on armaments?" I asked the synthetic.

"Not counting already dispersed arms," Reagan began. "Ten M41As in the crate with enough ammunition to supply each weapon with three hundred rounds. In addition, we have one hundred and fifty M40 grenade rounds."

"Any updates from Griggs?"

" _Grumman_ is on the apoapsis of its orbit of _Aconis_. Due to the limited satellite array infrastructure, we will not regain direct communications for another thirty-nine minutes."

"As soon as you get a signal, I want a status report on their progress."

Reagan gave a polite nod and set off toward the main computer terminal. He would, of course, be using it to establish a communication link with the _Grumman_. I did catch a glimpse of him inserting a small data drive into an interface port. There wasn't much time to dwell on what the synthetic was up to, plenty still needed to be done.

I climbed up the ladder with my pulse rifle pointed upward and ready. Ramos had nothing to do, so I dragged him along. I nudged the hatch upward with a push from the barrel of the pulse rifle. The dawn sun was piercing through the overcast of clouds. I pulled myself through the hatch and was on the roof. Ramos scurried up behind me and sealed the hatch once outside.

The roof was a twisted array of metal piping and conduits; various large transformer boxes, antennae, and cables. There was a large flat section designed VTOL craft at the far side. A separate stairwell led directly to that. A scan right before exiting from the _Orbital Hawk_ indicated the area was clear of hostiles. Still, I wanted to play it safe.

With my pulse rifle pointed forward, Ramos as well, we began a sweep of the roof. We ducked under piping and stepped over conduit lines, as we anxiously hunted for any of the creatures intrepid enough to have scaled the admin building.

"Hey Dick," Ramos said in a soft, nervous voice.

"What is it Ramos," was my response, still with my weapon up.

"How long until the drop repair is done and they're back to pick us up?"

"Depends..."

"What does that mean?"

"Depends on their point in orbit, the drop trajectory. They can only launch on the approach to periapsis, and if they have a guaranteed flight path in the forty degree pipeline. Could take a good three hours additional just to align everything."

Ramos wasn't exactly the brightest grunt. Evidently, he did not pay attention during the orbital drop lectures at combat infantry school. They cover a lot of the science shit that goes into atmospheric reentry, space travel, and the like. Sure helps put things into perspective. Most grunts use it as an excuse to catch up on sleep after an exhausting day of PT and running courses. I actually found it pretty interesting. Didn't realize just how many ways outer space will try to kill you.

"Jesus Dick, you're making my brain hurt with that nerd shit," Ramos complained.

I didn't pay much mind to his griping. Having to ponder the complexities of rocket science offered an alternative to despair over the creatures. A quick sweep of the roof turned up no hostiles. Convinced, I approached the edge of the building at its front.

Below, I could see the mound of junk that obstructed the entrance and our APC. The flames from the crashed vehicles at the tarmac still burned in the distance. I pulled the range-magnifiers from a pack on my belt and held them to my eyes. The magnifiers zoomed in on the launchpad. I was looking for any creatures that were wandering about, maybe I could get preliminary count.

The tarmac was deserted. Every last one of the creatures must've hauled ass. All I could make out were the bodies of the dead. The line of sight was a bit obstructed, but from what view I had not too many bodies remained. Could some of the colonists have fled into the woods or surrounding launchpad terminal buildings? That was a possibility. I caught a lot of shit at the military inquiry over this fiasco for not going back to search for more survivors. It would have reflected better if I could've saved more. Well, in my situation, I saved all I could.

"See anything?" Ramos asked.

"Nothing," I murmured.

I turned my back and started for the hatch back to the inside. Ramos followed suit. Before heading in, I pulled an infrared beacon that was fixed to my belt. It was a cylindrical olive drab painted object that very much resembled a flashbang or smoke grenade. All Colonial Marines, Corporals and above, were required to carry them to signal pilots. I pulled the pin and tossed it toward the rooftop landing pad. The flare emitted a pulse, invisible to the human eye, but easily picked up on infrared. The dropship pilots would see it and hone in on our location. Satisfied, I followed Ramos down the hatch and locked it.

 **000**

Several tense hours had passed, tense as in there were no sightings of the creatures. We waited nervously for the onslaught. I kept sending out three man patrols through the building to double check the entrances; at least it gave people something to do.

I had a chat with one of the colonists, Cardenas. He was one of the best paid engineers from _Seegson_ , and I guess the highest ranking corporate representative left. Not really one of the sociable types, he fit the mold of the awkward bookworm type. I did get Cardenas to open up about the situation on _Aconis_.

"The disappearances had been going on for weeks," a visibly shaken Cardenas recounted. "The Marshals didn't know what was happening. A curfew was put into place at night, that's when most of the disappearances occurred. Not that anyone had to be told to stay in at night."

Cardenas' hands were shaking violently. I wrenched loose the pack of cigarettes from the band securing them to Ramos' helmet. I don't smoke, so I didn't have any on me and Cardenas looked like he needed one. The engineer gladly accepted and held the tobacco stick to his mouth; between trembling fingers. I had to hold his hand steady, as I extended the lighter forward. He showed his appreciation and I returned it with a nod.

"Most of my work was checking out mineral samples," Cardenas continued. "Miners bring me rocks and I run them through a machine in the lab. When things got bad I set up a cot in the lab, got my meals from the company mess, no reason to venture to my hab unit."

"Guess you lucked out," I humored. "Was there any gossip around the colony by the _Wey-Yu_ scientists about bringing specimens planetside? Any inclination about the impending disaster?"

" _Seegson_ wishes it could implement the amount of proprietary security _Weyland-Yutani_ enforces. Those people know how to keep their mouths' shut. We had no idea. Their personnel had living quarters in the lab complex. They rarely ventured out to mingle with us. The one odd event I remember was the cattle disappearance. Happened the day before we confirmed the Chinese presence."

"Cattle disappearance?"

"Yeah, all in one night! Forty head of cattle disappeared, the entire heard. It was one of the first signs of the weird stuff happening. We had an experimental ranch attached to the colony; studying the effectiveness and practicality to raise cattle on _Aconis_. One night the husbandry researchers finished their notations and went to bed. Come morning, they find the entire heard gone. I went down with everyone else to see the commotion. A section of fence looked like it was torn apart from the outside and something entered. Common theory suggested an indigenous predator of _Aconis_ , but the biologists insist there are no life forms larger than microscopic organisms on the planet. We didn't give it another thought after we confirmed the Chinese were present and taken over the lab. It was more sabotage on their part."

The sounds of footsteps clanging on the metal flooring caught my attention. It was the loud enough to indicate the one responsible was in a hurry. Everyone soon had their attention focused on the door to the control room, as Erickson burst through. The Private was short on breath and pale.

"You'd…better…take a…look…at this…Corporal," Erickson managed, as he caught his breath.

"What is it Erickson," I responded.

Erickson leaned forward and balanced himself with his hands on his thighs. He was breathing heavily and coughing from the physical exertion. I walked over to Erickson and placed my hand on his shoulder to keep the Private balanced. The commotion had Collins spooked. I could see her out of the corner of my eye slinging her rifle over her shoulder and readying to go out.

"Breath Erickson," I tried to calm him. "What is it? What's got you running like that?"

Erickson was still struggling; hyperventilating. Reagan stepped in to help calm the Private. The synthetic knelt down to look Erickson in the eyes. The crackle of Han's voice over the radio took me away from Erickson's plight. I remembered I had sent Han and Erickson to patrol, along with a few civilians.

" _Hey Dick, you'd better get down here. Maintenance area on sub-level two,_ " Han said.

"What is now?" I asked, a bit annoyed.

" _Cut the shit, Corp. This is serious! Just get down here._ "

Reagan gave a nod to convey he had a handle on the situation and Erickson was in good hands. I pointed to Iqbal to remain in the control center while Collins, Ramos, and myself set out for sub-level two. The three of us descended the flights of stairs in the stairwell until we reached the bottom. At the last flight of stairs we noticed a single colonist.

The colonist was curled up on the floor in the fetal position. He had a profound look of terror on his face, as he rocked back and forth. They were a ghastly shade of pale. Ramos took a moment to stop where he was, standing above the colonist to gawk. I grabbed the Private by the webbing on his armor and pulled him back. A placard on the wall with an arrow indicated the direction of the maintenance room we sought.

We continued down the hallway. It had a rougher, more industrial look. This was sub-level, in effect, the basement. No reason to spend money for the sake of aesthetics, as only a few select technicians would ever come down here. A light shone from one of the doorways at the end. It moved, clearly Han's shoulder lamp. Setting toward the illuminating beacon, we soon reached her.

"What is it Han," I asked her, wondering why we had to hurry down here.

Han did not say a word. Rather, she was crouched by a large opening in the wall. They were twin steel doors, but they had been bent. The doors were contorted like some frat boy crushed an aluminum can; like the doors were no obstacle for the creature. At Han's feet was an abandoned pulse rifle. It lay there, as the last sign of the one who carried it. The ammunition indicator display read a sobering "12". Whoever had it sure was pumping out rounds. Peppered on the door, the walls, floor, and ceiling were tiny burn holes. The creatures had been here, evidence of their blood or whatever acid liquid flowed through them was plastered all over the place.

"They have a way in," said an emotionless Han. "Doshi was checking out the room. She screamed, but we were too late. Erickson took off running when he saw the doors."

"How the fuck are they getting in here?" I asked, frustrated.

With a quick turn of the head, Han looked me in the eye. Her face radiated an expression of frustration and bordered on rage.

"Take a look through the opening," she pointed to the ripped doors. "If it's built like the colony I grew up on, then most of the large structures will be linked by these tunnels. They carry piping, electrical conduits, and other wiring. They're built wide enough for someone to access in the event repairs are needed."

"Barricade it as best as you can," I ordered. "If any of you have a compact anti-personnel mine, rig it. We'll pull our cordon up a level. Pile desks, chairs, file cabinets, anything big on the stairs leading up to the next level. Collins, you take the watch with Han. I'll send Iqbal and a few of the more resolute civilians down to help you out."

Han appreciated the confidence and the plan of action. She nodded, as did Collins. The only one not paying attention was Ramos. His face was glued to small screen of his motion tracker. We all nervously turned our heads when we heard the device start to sound. It was picking up movement, it was close. I rotated my shoulder to allow the lamp to illuminate the service tube, through the torn out doors. Dead ahead there must've been a dozen or more of the creatures. The crawled along the floor, on the walls, and advanced suspended from the ceiling.

"Get the fuck out of here!" I shouted.

Instinctively, I fired my pulse rifle down the corridor. The explosive tipped 10mm rounds all seemed to find targets, but these fuckers were hard to kill. It took maybe a good twenty to thirty rounds to bring one down. Maybe one or two dropped dead after a few seconds. It didn't make much difference; four more rushed forward to take the places of the fallen.

Collins joined me; taking a spot to my left and opening up with her own punishing spray of automatic rounds. She was able to take down one of her own after a short time. When Collins realized the futility of expending ammunition is such a wasteful manner, she racked the pump of her under slung grenade launcher. The grenade round shot down the passage and tore into the lead creature. The thick exoskeleton was no match for concentrated high explosives. The round blasted the creature to shreds and took out another few on its flanks.

The grenade only pissed them off. They approached at a faster speed now; closing the distance between us and them. Soon they were too close for us to fire a grenade safely. I turned to Ramos. The young Private was standing still; unsure whether to fight or run. When it seemed like he was about to run, I grabbed a strap on his person. More specifically, it was the strap to the flamer he had slung over his shoulder. I seized the strap and pulled the flamer from his shoulder. He willingly let the weapon go and spun around to follow Han.

I slapped Collins on her right shoulder pad. She was in the process of dropping an empty magazine from her rife and about to load a fresh one. No words had to be exchanged, she knew I was ordering her to fallback while I covered the withdraw. The Lance Corporal took off after the others, to collect the frightened civilian and proceed up the stairs.

The horde of creatures was only a few meters away. I stuck the nozzle of the flamer through the opening of twisted steel doors and sparked the ignition flame. The creatures hissed and growled, as they edged closer. I pulled back on the trigger of the flamer and let them have it.

The jet of conflagrated napalm surged forth from the weapon. The burning liquid covered every inch of the service tube. It was sticking to walls and to the creatures; melting away whatever their excuse for flesh was. The creatures howled as they burned. Their front line was decimated and the ones behind, the ones unscathed, were reluctant to press forward. I could see the ones behind, faintly through the flames, recoil from the inferno. Seems they didn't like the fire very much.

I let loose several bursts from the flamer, enough to drive them back from the doors. With one hand balancing the flamer, as I shot, I pulled a grenade round from the bandolier on my armor's webbing. I flicked off the top and tapped the four second fuse. Then, I let off the flamer trigger and hurled the grenade toward the creatures. Satisfied it would take them a moment to realize I had stopped, I made my move.

I ran as fast as I could to the stairs. A loud explosion thundered behind me; flames shot out from the maintenance room I had left. I dashed into the stairwell where the others were waiting for me, weapons at the ready. A heavy fire door separated the stairwell from the sub-level corridor. Acting quickly, we slammed the door shut. I took out my hand welder and started to fuse the metal of the door to the frame starting at the top. Han did the same from the bottom. We worked quickly to seal the door and hoped it would hold the creatures off long enough to erect a more substantial barricade on the stairs.

Collins had been screaming on the radio while I was away roasting the xenos. As we ascended the staircase to the ground level, we were met by Iqbal, Cardenas, and two other armed colonists; responding to Collins' call for support.

"The hell is going on down there, Dick?" Iqbal called out.

"Xenos found a way in," I said, stepping onto the same landing as Iqbal. "We need to get a barricade erected."

"There's that junk piled on the second floor. We could quickly get that reinforced. We'd lose our access to the lower levels though."

"Then we'll bank on the airborne evac. Get to work; pull materials from wherever you can find them. I'll send down the rest of the civilians to help out."

Iqbal set to the task of organizing the construction, as we relocated to the previous barricade erected on the second floor. It was the one put up by the Marshalls after the last shoot out. We had blown a hole in it when we first entered, but we could easily patch that up and reinforce everything else. I left Iqbal to her job and looked to Collins.

"Jess, you have things here?" I asked.

Collins shook her head in affirmation; understanding that she was to ready the defense if the creatures were to rush this position. I knew things were in good hands with Collins. She was a competent Marine and I ain't afraid to admit I'd rather have her calling the shots in this situation. But I had the rank and the job fell to me.

A curious radio message came from Reagan who requested my presence in the control room. With Ramos following, I set off for the top level to meet with the synthetic. I found Reagan leaning over a mobile terminal he brought from the APC and plugged into the admin building's mainframe. Presumably, he was using the connection to the mainframe to boost the signal sent from the mobile terminal through the roof mounted satellite dishes, as means of clearer communication with the _Grumman_. In the control room, I ordered every civilian sitting around to get to work on the barricade. I then turned my attention Reagan.

"We have a problem," said Reagan, eyes still glued to the terminal.

"What problem?" I asked.

"It involves the nuclear launch capability of the _Grumman_. There is an apparent command override program put in place by _Weyland-Yutani_ that is preventing the arming or launch of any nuclear weapons targeted at _Aconis_."

"What are you saying? We can't launch nukes because of a weapons hold? Shouldn't SO 11-18 countermand any and all civilian directives?"

Reagan looked up from his terminal. The synthetic showed a very odd emotion for an android. He looked exasperated by the turn of events. The questioning had interrupted Reagan from his work communicating with the _Grumman_. When I left him he was working on bringing the ship's nuclear arsenal online. We could then initiate Special Order 11-18 and blow the planet to hell. But, as Reagan had indicated, something was wrong.

"The Company's software is impeding our link with the _Grumman_ ," Reagan calmly spoke. "As long as the program is in place, I will not be able to remotely launch the ship's nuclear payload."

"Dammit Reagan," I shouted, frustrated. "What the hell does that mean!? Why can't we target the planet? And why does Weyland fucking Yutani have the ability to interfere with our ship!?"

I did not notice Bashir, the Brit, seated in the corner in the room rise to his feet. He sauntered over to join, or rather interrupt, the conversation.

"It's because Weyland fucking Yutani built the ship you flew here on," said Bashir in callous tone. "This planet houses one of their prized research facilities and they aren't about to let you bomb it on your own initiative. It represents quite an investment for the Company. I'd imagine they are ripe with excitement at the opportunities presented by these creatures. What they do not need is some gung-ho grunt flying off the rails firing nuclear ordinance left and right."

The comments made by the Brit sent me into a rage. I know I'm supposed to be the calm one, what being in command and all, but this mother fucker crossed the damn line. I stored over in his direction, ready to break the fucker's jaw. The Brits are savages. They didn't show us any quarter on _Erdani_ , the bastards. Reagan picked up on my aggression and stepped in to prevent it escalating further. The synthetic took me by the gap in my armor by the neck opening. His increased robotic strength kept me stationary.

"He's right Morgan," said Reagan in calming voice. "The presence of the laboratory complex is responsible for the override. The Company has built in a backdoor code line that will prevent all missile launches…To safeguard important proprietary assets."

I lost my temper at the last remark. It was just a wave of frustration that pushed me over the edge. All composure that went with command seemed to dissipate. Everything that I worked so hard to block hit me all at once. My head was spinning. I tried to stay focused on staying alive, avoiding panic, and getting everyone out. To be honest, I couldn't take it anymore.

I kicked my foot into a nearby desk. The boot left a sizable indentation. All of the rage flowed out, as took out my anger on the various pieces of furniture. Ramos was awestruck by the behavior. He only looked on and took no action to intervene. After a few chairs had been thrown and tables pushed over, I turned to face Reagan.

"So that's it?" I announced, overcome by emotion. "We just let the damn things run wild. They win the planet, and what do we get? We don't even know if the dropship will reach us in time. The things have already figured out a way inside. It's only a matter of time until they're in here."

"Jesus Christ, Dick!" Ramos unexpectedly piped in. "Show a little fucking faith! You've gotten us this far. Don't bitch out on us."

Ramos displayed a new quality. He was being assertive and needed me to snap back into shape. They were depending on me to get them out. The job had fallen to me, though I wish it hadn't. As much as I hated the prick, Nero, I sure do wish he were here. I sat down on a desk I had only moments earlier thrown the contents of to the floor. The fucking control room felt like a goddamn desert, it was so fucking hot. The sweat was dripping down my face, from my forehead and into my eyes; obscuring my vision. The armor I wore grew heavy and only added to suffocate me in the heat. Reagan saw my distress and walked over. The synthetic places a reaffirming hand on my shoulder before he spoke.

"There is another way," said Reagan. "We can fire manually from the _Grumman_."

"Oh yeah," I spoke, the defeat in my voice infecting the morale like venom. "Just how are we supposed to conduct the manual launch without the keys? You can remote in with the terminal, no problem, but we need to turn a fucking physical key to launch from _Grumman's_ bridge. The only one with a key is Deal."

Reagan had a twisted smile envelop his mouth. I had assigned myself a task without meaning to or realizing it. It took no longer than a moment to figure out what needed to happen. We had to venture back out there, among the creatures, to retrieve the launch key that, as per regulations, hung around a chain on Captain Deal's neck. Inserting that command key into a specific control panel on the _Grumman_ would allow us the option to manually target, position the ship, and fire the nuclear payload. It being a manual operation, no _Wey-Yu_ software could impede our act. Not giving Reagan a chance to speak, I uttered what needed to happen.

"We have to retrieve Captain Deal's key," I spoke. "We somehow find his body amongst the dead and retrieve that launch key."

"In summary, yes," said Reagan.

"Well in case didn't notice, there's kind of a large xeno infestation going on. We step outside of the building and we're fucking toast."

"Well if we don't nuke the fuckers," Ramos interrupted. "...they'll overrun this planet. I mean, eventually a salvage team or more colonists will set down here. They aren't going to stand a chance. And what if the Chinese get here and collect samples or something. If they weaponize the creatures we're seriously fucked! Hell, if one of creatures just gets loose in a city…"

Ramos had gone through some sort of profound change. Gone was the arrogant punk attitude. To say he wasn't scared would be a lie, he was scared, we all were. But Ramos was determined; he wanted to see the creatures dead. I didn't expect I would be agreeing with the kid on this, I really did not want to go out there, but we had to.

 **000**

"For the record this is really fucking bad idea," said Collins.

Five of us descended the stairwell from the level of the control room. I decided to lead the group of volunteers to set out to retrieve the launch key. Ramos was the first to answer, as did Reagan and Han, because she's a little on the crazy side. Collins wanted to come as well, but I ordered her to stay. The ones remaining behind would need someone in command. She did not like that fact. I'd figured she wanted to come mainly to keep an eye on me, so I wouldn't get myself killed.

Iqbal stood at the barricade with her rile trained on the area beyond. Three of the colonists were working quickly to weld the scrap metal together; reinforcing the barricade. There was a small gap, just wide enough for a person to slip through. They held off patching this hole until we were out. Then it would be sealed. The only chance for us would be a pickup by the dropship at the tarmac. Luckily, they had her patched up and were already in the orbital entry phased. We timed it as best as we could.

"Jess, we'll be fine," I tried to reassure her. "Keep things locked down here and we'll be back with the ship."

In an unexpected move, one against regulations and would've brought Nero's ire if he were here, Collins wrapped her arms around my back and pulled me close. She embraced me in a tight hug of affection.

"When this over," she started, emotionally. "You're buying me a fuck ton of drinks and dinners."

"Yeah," I responded softly. "I'd like that."

"Corporal Morgan," Reagan interjected in his synthetic manner. "We should be going."

I turned away from Collins and looked to Reagan. Ramos was closest to the opening in the barricade and ready. The flamer was slung over my shoulder; I grabbed the weapon with both hands and held it up. Erickson passed Han a large satchel packed with grenades and ammunition magazines, to supplement the many we already carried.

"We'll signal once the dropship gets us," I addressed everyone. "Fall back to the roof and await extraction."

They all acknowledged what I said. Erickson now passed a pulse rifle to Reagan, who was still unarmed. The Synthetic politely handed it over to Collins. I couldn't stand to look at Jess anymore. I swiftly turned to Ramos and slapped his shoulder pad. The Private took off through the hole in the barricade; twisting his body to maneuver his bulky armor. After Ramos, I passed through, then Reagan, and finally Han. Immediately, a large sheet of steel was thrown over the opening and the welders began to spark.

Down one more flight of stairs and we were on the first level. The halls were quiet, as we stepped from the stairwell into the corridor. Ramos had point and panned his lamp down the desolate hallway. The wreckage we had seen earlier cast gnarled shadows upon the walls. I was directly behind Ramos; scanning the area with the motion tracker. Several blips appeared on the display screen. They were below us, dozens of them, but none seemed to be in the immediate proximity.

Our boots clanged loudly on the metal flooring, as we tried to silently move. With no other sounds the boots sounded like a goddamn orchestra. Only a few more meters ahead were the building's atrium and the front entrance. The boots had betrayed us, however. The motion tracker started to hum loudly, very loudly.

The metal grate in the floor behind our party flew upwards. One of the creatures, its dark color and elongated, ribbed head burst through the opening it had created. It hissed and extended its inner jaw in a threatening manner. Han spun around and opened fire. The rounds from her pulse rifle ripped apart the creature's intricately molded, what I assumed to be, skull. The splattering of acid landed in all directions and immediately went to work eating through the structure.

The corpse of the dispatched creature slumped back and fell through the opening it had made. Another one rose from the depths to take the place of the fallen.

"Reagan!" I shouted. "Get that door open!"

The Synthetic ran forward with Ramos. The door that served to the entrance of the building had been welded shut during our fortification of the structure. To reach the parked APC on the other side we had to quickly force our way through. Reagan wore a chest harness that served as a bandolier for several M40 grenades. With Ramos to cover, Reagan proceeded to the door where he would arm the grenades and blow open the doors.

I stood my ground with Han; to hold off the xenos long enough for the door to be blasted. The flamer I held was fully charged and ready. I squeezed the trigger and fired a jet of ignited propellant at the next xeno clawing through the hole. The creature burst into flames and screamed violently. The flamethrowers were proving more effective against these things. I took a step forward; letting off the trigger. The incinerated creature flailed about. I approached with the flamer raised. Within a few steps of the hole I let out another stream from the weapon.

The fire reignited the blaze. I could already see a third xeno behind; ready to crawl forward and take the place of the next one fallen. The arc of fire enveloped the tight crawlspace beneath the metal flooring. It traveled several meters and fried anything in its path, meaning the creatures. Their cries of agony resonated through the ducts. It was a satisfying feeling to hear them scream. The fuckers deserved to burn. I let off the trigger and turned to Han. She had already stepped forward with a grenade in hand. One last parting gift for the xenos, as Han charge the detonator then tossed the grenade through the opening. We turned and headed as fast as we could for the atrium.

A loud blast ahead greeted us along with one to our rear. Ramos was already through the hold Reagan had blasted. The Synthetic stood at the opening, motioning us through with a gesture of his arm. I sent Han through first before insiting Reagan step through next. Then, I was the last one to leave.

The remote sentry feature of the APC had been deactivated for our approach. Ramos had made it to the vehicle and opened the door. The kid was enthusiastic about driving; already assuming the operator's seat. Han, then Reagan, and I climbed aboard and slammed the door. We were safe, for the moment, in the armored interior of the vehicle. Ramos started to power up the drive systems, as Reagan forced him from the driver's seat. It was best Reagan drove. His android reflexes could react a quicker than ours, plus I could use another rifleman holding a rifle and not busy driving. Reagan, though foolishly in the present situation, considered himself a non-combatant.

The motor roared to life when Reagan shifted into gear. It was rough going over the debris thrown around the exterior of the admin building. I took a place at the command terminal bank, while Ramos and Han found seats of their own. The systems were still online and I was able to patch in to a feed from the _Hawk_. The reconnaissance drone was nearing the tarmac for a flyover. I monitored the video display and motion sweep of the craft to detect any xenos running around. So far so good, no sightings of hostiles in the open, but you had to figure they were hiding in recesses, shadows, and structures. If the damn things were detectable on infrared I could pinpoint them exactly and fry them with the APC's plasma turret.

The drive through the abandoned colony structures, the road running in the hab zones, to the tarmac was hauntingly uneventful. I would've felt better if we were wasting creatures with the plasma cannons or the rotary guns. There wasn't a target in sight to shoot. You had to figure the bastards were watching us the entire time, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Reagan slowed the APC, as he turned onto the tarmac of the launchpad. The area was littered with corpses, both human and xeno. It was a truly appalling sight; a massacre. It was difficult to respect the dead, as we had to run over a few to reach our target. You were better off to ignore the crunch of dead colonists under the APC's wheels.

The last time any of us saw Captain Deal he was over at the APC he converted into a headquarters. It was there a creature harpooned him through the gut. The target APC was just ahead. We could still see the awning deploy from the command vehicle's side, though it had loosened from one of its fasteners and waved in the calm breeze.

The APC lumbered up to the stationary command vehicle. I flipped the lock on the side door and slid it open. The flamer was raised in front of me, as I stepped out. Ramos followed closely. Han remained in the vehicle to track for targets from the command chair.

There were several bodies of Marines that lay around the command APC. It was difficult to see them like this, I mean; I served with these men and women on several campaigns. For them to just end up dead like this, it didn't sit well.

Ramos and I cautiously approached the spot where Deal lay. We could see our commanding officer. Deal's lifeless body faced skyward; his eyes were opened wide and staring into an abyss. I crept closer and knelt down by the Captain. There was large puncture through his gut where the barbed tail had impaled. I tried not to look at it, but it was hard. You could see right through to his guts and organs. Christ, it was fucking disgusting.

I patted Deal around the neck and upper chest until I found what I sought. It was elongated rectangular object attached to a chain worn around his neck. The object was a magnetized bar encoded with the authorization code to allow the manual launch of nuclear weapons from the _U.S.S. Grumman_. I gently lifted the chain and pulled it over his head until it was freed. To keep it secured, I hung the chain around my neck. As last gesture of respect for the commander, I picked up an abandoned pulse rifle lying nearby. I placed the rifle on the Captain's chest and folded one of his arms over the weapon. If any were to find him, more specifically a Marine, they'd recognize it as a sign he went down fighting. Not that it would matter, as we were about to vaporize the entire hemisphere. But Deal would know, he'd be watching from that great Marine preserve in the sky.

Securing the area was Ramos, who nervously tracked his pulse rifle from side to side. We had only been outside of the APC for a few moments, but it wouldn't take that long for the creatures to overrun us.

"Han, charge the beacon," I called, as I stood up.

Han flipped a switch on the control panel that activated the APC's Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon; yeah you have to bear with me on the name for that. The beacon would send an electronic pulse on military frequencies that could be easily picked up by the descending dropship.

I had the flamer in hand and was ready to return to the APC when a noise caused me to turn. It sounded like a cry, a cry from something small. In a few moments I realized it was the cry of an infant.

"What the fuck is that?" Ramos questioned, confused by the noise.

"Get to the APC, I'll be right there," I ordered.

Ramos darted toward the interior of the armored vehicle. I did not want to devote more time to the search than I had to, nor did I want to stay out in the open like this. The cries came from the interior of the command APC. It was terrible sight within. The vehicle had been overloaded with civilians during the panic. A xeno dove into and cut through the colonists inside. It was doubtful anyone inside could have survived.

I stood at the doorway to the APC's interior. The paneling was smeared with blood. The bodies were stacked on top other, maybe thirty in a space designed for less than half of that number. The noise was close, like right in front of me. I grabbed the lifeless corpse of a man who lay in the doorway. His forehead had been bored through by the inner jaw of a creature. With two hands, I pulled the body from the door and onto the ground. Beneath, through some miracle, was an infant.

The infant was wrapped tightly in a pink blanket; stained by dirt. I reached down and lifted the child; cradling her in my arms. For a moment, I felt detached from all the death, the violence, the hopelessness of the situation. I stared at the child, who seemed to immediately settle down as I held her. I never figured I was good with kids. I didn't know how she had survived and it was lucky for her she couldn't comprehend what had happened. A feminine looking hand had clenched the child inside the APC, guessing it was the mother. I thought about reaching back inside to do a quick search of the mother's body. Maybe find an identification card or some memento for the child to understand later in life. No time was allotted for this task, however. Ramos shouting from the APC caused me to turn.

"Dick, come on!" he shouted. "We've got incoming hostiles, a whole shit ton of 'em."

The child in hand would definitely hamper things a bit. Being the clever, resourceful fucker I am, I reached for the satchel that hung across my body. The satchel carried two reload canisters of napalm for the flamethrower. I discarded the canisters, hoping I would not need the reload, and placed the infant in the bag. There was just enough room for her to sit securely. I darted back toward the APC just as Han opened fire with the plasma turret.

The twin arcs of plasma bolts raced toward the approaching group of xenos. The impact blasted apart a section of ground among their number. The shots had been dead on and had vaporized several of the creatures. There were scores more racing forward to fill in the gaps left by the dead. This was a fucking battle we could not win.

I swapped the flamethrower for a pulse rifle mounted on a rack within the APC. I figured it'd be more prudent to discharge a pulse rifle whilst carrying an infant over a flamer, not that you should be discharging any firearms while carrying an infant, but desperate measures shit.

We were ready for the coming onslaught. Reagan assumed the control terminal seat from Han, as she took up a rifle. Good thing the Synthetic had no qualms about using about using a computer to direct fire. People could debate for hours why an android would refuse to pick up a rifle, but will direct computer guided turret fire; sadly there is no time for that.

The three of us Marines, Ramos, Han and I pulled back the bolts on our pulse rifles. Our magazines were full and we were ready to waste some fucking xenos, or go down shooting. The horde started to spread out, as they drew nearer. We were ready for when they ripped through door.

I had a nervous eye on the screen from the APC's gun camera feed. In the blink of an eye, the entire screen flashed white from a giant lens flare. The deafing boom that accompanied the flash could only be from one source. The type of explosion inflicted was not one caused by plasma cannons. I grabbed the door handle and gently pulled it aside; rifle readied. Looking upward, I caught a glimpse of the dropship screeching on a low level attack run.

The twin booms were extended from the dropship that held the rocket pods on the end. The Warrant Officer onboard worked feverishly to identify targets and launch the payload. The fact the creatures did not show up on infrared did not seem to pose any problems. The W.O. was perfectly content with suppressing the area with unguided, wide dispersal, area denial ordinance. Those rockets ground up anything within the kill zone.

Positioned on the extended cargo ramp of the dropship was a Marine with a tripod affixed to the deck and a heavy support machine gun attached. The Marine was firing concentrated bursts at the creatures who somehow managed to evade the kill radius of the missiles. A second Marine was farther up the ramp with a battle rifle to individually pick off targets with semi-automatic, high caliber rounds. They were both secured to the dropship by safety harnesses.

The dropship banked a hard right after its initial attack run. The machine gunner on the ramp kept a punishing automatic fire on the remaining xenos below. Meanwhile, the Flight Officer gently maneuvered the vessel lower to the ground and toward our APC.

We raced out of the shelter of the APC to take our chances in the open. The dropship was setting down right in front of us. Reagan leapt onto the ramp, followed closely by Ramos and then me. I put an arm on the satchel to make sure the infant was alright. She wasn't crying, but sleeping through this entire ordeal. Han had an arm wrapped around one of the hydraulic pistons that lowered the cargo ramp, as the dropship began to ascend.

Everyone let out a collective sigh believing we were safe. The machine gunner took his eyes off of the ground below to relish the feeling of satisfaction in having just picked us up. Nobody was paying attention, especially Han.

The dropship was only a few meters off of the ground and climbing. That is when a xeno ran as fast as it could and left with a strength none could fathom. The creature cleared a height of ten meters like it was nothing. The unsuspecting Han turned to look, but it was too late. The xeno set down on the very edge of the ramp. It was unbalanced swayed in several directions, as it fought to stay upright. When the creature felt it was going to fall, it seized Han in an iron grip. The hold was unbreakable and Han was at the mercy of the beast. We did not have the chance to shot back at the xeno, if we had shot the acid would've gotten all over Han. The dropship made a sudden jerk.

The movement was enough to disrupt the creature's equilibrium and it toppled to the ground below. The problem being, it still had Han in its clutched. We watched on helplessly, as the creature pulled Han off of the ramp. They both hit the ground hard. All of us rushed to the edge of the ramp to yell at Han, to see what we could do. One of the Marines aboard tried radioing to the pilot to turn around. It was no use.

The last glimpse I had of Beth Han was a four xenos climbing over her. The dropship was moving too quickly and the ramp obstructing just enough that I could not aim my pulse rifle. I wish I could've fired a grenade right at Han, taken her out of her misery. Jesus, I don't like to think about. They ripped her to shreds. By the time the pilot responded to our panicked cries it was long over. Nothing was left was left of Han.

 **000**

The pilot flew us toward the administration building. The only thing left was to pick up the survivors. It was only a short flight between the tarmac and the building; really no need to retract the loading ramp. I climbed up the catwalk steps and pulled myself to the small seating area directly behind the cockpit bulkhead. Reagan and Ramos were already seated. I removed the launch key from its spot on my neck and handed it to Reagan. The Synthetic said nothing, only offered a polite nod upon receipt.

In the satchel the brushed against my hip I felt a few kicks. I reached inside and gently lifted the screaming infant into my arms. Ramos' eyes opened wide at the unexpected sight. Reagan expressed a sign of bewilderment, a genuine fabricated emotion for the Synthetic. I cradled the child against my left shoulder to try and calm her down. She was screaming loudly, but drowned out the dropship's ramjets.

"Dick, where the fuck did you find a baby?" asked Ramos. "In that trashed APC?"

"Under one of the bodies in the APC," I replied. "I figured she must've been there all night."

"It's a miracle she's alive. May I" said Reagan, his arms outstretched.

As Reagan was not carrying a weapon and would remain seated, I thought it more prudent to leave the child in the care of the Synthetic. Ramos looked like he needed a moment to sit down. Our adrenaline had been running on max since things on _Aconis_ went to shit, so I didn't scream at him to follow.

The pain was returning to my arm where the creature's acid seared the flesh. I was probably due for another sedative, but the next recommended dosage would be a tranquilizer that would have me out cold. I wasn't sleeping yet, not until I had the satisfaction of nuking the xenos. It was a shame about Han; buying it when we were so close to dusting off this fucking planet. She was a good Marine.

I made my way from the seats at the bulkhead to the cargo ramp. The two Marines manning the guns were still on station with weapons at the ready. The admin building was coming into view. Right away, you could tell something was very wrong.

The upper floors of the building had large blast holes in a few places on the exterior. The best guess would say someone was firing grenades wildly. Thick plumes of smoke billowed from the punctures. I was standing on the ramp directly behind the Marine on the mounted squad automatic weapon. There were no responses on the comms when I tried to raise Collins and the other Marines. The gunner turned his attention immediately to several xenos on the ground, at the building's entrance. They were crawling through the hole we made to get to the APC. We were too exposed to make an attempt to patch it. Seemed the creatures were exploiting a weakness. The gunner blasted apart two with concentrated bursts of automatic fire.

A large explosion rocked the top level of the building. It came from the control room. The force of the blast detached several of the steel shutters and shattered nearly all of the glass windows. Wreckage jetted out; twisted and contorted in the area that received the blunt of the detonation. The smoke was thicker now and covering the building's roof. It flowed up through air ducts and other recently created openings.

The visibility was reduced drastically and the pilot had trouble brining the dropship in to pick up the survivors. Increasing the VTOL jets to full, it created enough of gust beneath the craft to force the smoke away. We could get a clear view of the roof in time to see several human figures scrambling out of the roof access hatch. There were only five of them, two Marines and three civilians.

Erickson, despite the bulky armor and equipment he carried, was out running the group to the dropship. We were hovering less meter from the roof; setting down on the landing pad. They formed almost a single file line headed toward the dropship. Erickson, then Cardenas, two other civilians whose names I never bothered to learn nor would I remember them at this point, and finally Collins.

Collins was well behind the group. It looked like she had abandoned her armor, only wearing her undershirt. She was last through the access hatch; throwing in a grenade before slamming the cover closed. The building rumbled from the explosion beneath. Collins started running after the group, periodically turning around to check for creatures.

There was a small set of steps to reach the elevated rooftop landing pad. Erickson scrambled up them and made a dash for the dropship's loading ramp. He dove aboard and made straight for the seats. There was no fight left in the young man; he had his fill of combat.

Behind the frightened Erickson was Cardenas. Cardenas had not quite reached the stairs when something large collided with him and sent both tumbling for a few meters. It was one of those xeno runners. Fuck, they were crawling over the side of the building and onto the roof. They must've been scaling the sides, either from the ground or one of the blast holes, guess it didn't really matter because they were here.

The runner recovered quickly and leapt onto Cardenas. The xeno was clawing viciously, as Cardenas tried to resist. It looked like the creature was trying to drag Cardenas away, maybe to one of those eggs or something nasty. Wish I had acted sooner or tried to intercept the runner. He seemed like an alright guy who didn't deserve his fate.

One of the Marines on the dropship's ramp, the one with the marksman rife, tried to play the hero. He ran off of the ramp and toward the edge of landing pad. Before I could yell at the Marine to cease fire, he was already pumping rounds at the hostile. The xeno was still fighting with Cardenas; standing over the man. The rounds from a designated marksman's rifle are nasty, like the only rounds we have that can kill a xeno with just a few shots. When the rounds struck the creature they tore several large wounds in the exoskeleton. This Marine wasn't firing a few; no he was empting the entire fucking mag in this thing.

The acid drained out from several of the wounds and landed directly on Cardenas. It went to work immediately eating through Cardenas' flesh right through the bone. The poor guy was screaming in agony. To make matters worse, the dying xeno fell right on top the colonist. Cardenas was trapped under the weight of the creature, without the use of his limbs, as more acid seeped out.

I wasn't even in the position to render a mercy killing. While the events with Cardenas and runner were unfolding, we were pulling the other two colonists on board. Collins was taking her time getting to us. The creatures had only been temporarily stalled by the grenade, but more were coming to fill the shortage. They were all clawing their way through the access hatch and climbing over the sides of the roof.

The creatures were enveloping Collins on every side; drawling closer. She swung her pulse rife from side to side. The weapon raked a punishing fire in the front ranks of the approaching creatures. The persistence of the xenos meant Collins had to keep her attention and weapon on them.

"Jess, come on!" I yelled, running forward from the dropship ramp.

I held my rifle up and started firing. It was a covering fire to let her run. The pilot made it clear it was time to go. The thrusters of the dropship displaced the air around us. The landing struts were several inches from the ground. The gunner on the ramp was screaming at Collins and me to climb aboard. I was still shooting while taking steps backward to the ship.

The Marine with the marksman rifle grabbed me by my webbing and pulled me onto the ramp. The pilot was increasing thrust and had us about half a meter from the landing pad. Collins still was not aboard. I let my rifle fall from my hands to catch on the strap across my shoulder. I leaned forward to catch Collins, as she would have to jump to get aboard. Already, Collins had discarded her rifle in order to run faster.

I was standing on the edge of the ramp and leaning outward towards Collins. The Marine who held me clung tightly, as he was still secured to the ship by a safety tether. Collins was only a few steps away. She was running at a full sprint up the short staircase. The dropship was edging closer skyward. I leaned out as far as could without losing my balance. My right hand was outstretched and I grasped Collins' forearm.

The pilot set the dropship's thrusters to full and we began to liftoff from the pad. The distance between us and ground began to increase drastically. Collins was barely aboard; having to jump to close the gap. Her upper body rested on the deck, held in place by me, while her legs dangled over the side. I started to pull her up, but she then felt unusually heavy.

One of the xenos had leapt skywards and clenched on to Collins, as she held on. The creature latched itself on to Collins; sinking its sharpened digits on its hands into her flesh. She let out a horrific cry. The blood from the wounds soaked her shirt a dark red. I held onto her as tightly as I could; sliding my right under her arms.

The Marines, the gunner and marksman, both rushed forward to help. The creature was pulling itself up Collins' body. It drove its hands into her flesh with each climb it made and drew closer. The gunner stuck a foot out and began stomping the creature on its rigid head. The action only infuriated the xeno. The marksman started to do the same. They both stomped down on the head of the creature in a desperate effort to force it to release its grasp. We couldn't shoot the creature. It was too close and the acid would have fucked us all up.

The creature swung its head; exposing its fearsome jaws. It bit down on the foot of the gunner. The Marine screamed from the jaws closing and the teeth piercing the muscles. He fell on his back and grasped the wounded foot.

My arm was still around Collins while the marksman still tried to batter the creature away. Though, he was more cautious and reluctant to kick the xeno. Collins was losing a lot of blood and the creature kept sinking its claws into her tissue.

It was an act of pure desperation. Hell, all other options were off the table or just not working. I reached up with my left hand to the lantern mounted over my left shoulder. There was a small carrying handle on the lantern should it ever need to be detached and carried.

I wrapped my fingers around that handle and pulled upward. The motion unlatched the lamp from its mount on my left shoulder blade and I swung it over. The creature was a mere few inches from me and I could see the insidious inner jaw start to extend; ready to inflict a quick death. I had one opportunity and I took it.

I shoved the lantern into the open mouth of the creature. The lantern was awkward and bulky, but I forced it into the creature's mouth. The xeno began to gag and chomp at this foreign object. The metallic construction was a taste unfamiliar to this creature and it struggled with how it would interpret the taste. It fully expected something more of the fleshy variety.

The lantern caused a situation the xeno did not expect. When the creature went to remove the object, the marksman and I both worked together. The fucking thing withdrew a clawed hand from impaling Collins to grab at the obstruction. The marksman and I started a relentless onslaught of boots to the face of the xeno. It was distracted enough by the obstruction and trying to maintain a hold that it simply could not counter.

I must have kicked it in a sensitive area, the nose or where I think it would have a nose, if it even had one. The creature let out one of those fucking screeches. I still wake up in the middle of the night when those hellish sounds enter my dreams. The creature went to hold up its other hand to block the kicks. The dumb thing realized there was nothing left holding it onto Collins. I made a forceful tug and pulled Collins onto the deck. I was far too worried about her to get the satisfaction of watching xeno plunge to its death.

Reagan or Ramos or someone hit the switch to close the ramp. The pistons fired up and the ramp was fully retracted not long after. A seal was established and we could feel the pilot putting the craft into an ascension flight. We were finally rid of those fucking monsters.

Collins, I wish I had done more to help her. By the time I laid her out on the deck, to check her wounds, she was dead. When the creature had clawed into Collins' body, it must've punctured the heart, lungs, and some other vital organs. Reagan had bolted down the gangway and knelt next to me. Even with the Synthetic's detailed files on human anatomy and medical programming, nothing could be done for Collins. Her lifeless face gazed upward, the blood trickled from between her lips and the eyes were wide. As a final gesture, I ran my hand over her face to shut her eyes. Reagan turned his attention to the wounded gunner's foot.

Ramos looked on from the catwalk above with the infant in his arms. There is spare compartment along the siding of the dropship that contains body bags for any Marines killed in action on a drop. Ramos, balancing the child in one arm, tossed me the bag. The marksman helped maneuver Collins into the bag and I secured it to the rungs flush in the loading ramp with lock clips. It was a reverent act to pay my respects. We were about to go orbital, so anything or anyone not bolted down would get thrown violently against the rear bulkhead.

I was struggling to keep my emotions inside. Collins had been my best friend for over three years. We had run just about every drop together and gotten ourselves into and out of our fair share of shit. A good number of Marines I'd known had been lost during my time in the Corps, but none were hurting me more now than the loss of Collins. Guess it was because I had feelings for her. Damn, it really sucked.

I climbed back up to the bulkhead where the others were taking a seat. A few jump seats had to be pulled from the wall, but we were all set in a few minutes. We signaled the pilot who sealed the engine intakes and switched to rocket flight. I took the child back from Ramos. The infant had stopped crying when I did and she fell comfortably asleep in my arms. It was a welcome sight to see the little one asleep. After all the violence, the killing, and horrors on _Aconis_ , this was something peaceful, something calming.

 **000**

 **U.S.S. Grumman – Orbit of** _ **Aconis LV-855**_

 **1 March 2178:**

The others had settled into stasis capsules for the suspended conscious voyage to our base on _Surier 430_. The _Orbital Hawk_ had followed our ascent and was in the process of automated docking. Those UAVs are expensive and the Corps doesn't like us to leave them behind if we can help it. I went over each pod to make sure the equipment was functioning properly, as I activated the stasis system for each individual. Ramos gave me a "semper-fi motherfucker" before I put him under. He was the last one out. I threw my dirtied and blood soaked bdus into a receptacle and only had the undershirt and shorts on. Reagan had summoned me to the bridge.

The only ones still up were Reagan, the infant, and myself. We stood on the empty bridge of the _Grumman_. Only a few low lamps were illuminated in a power conservation effort. The bright glow of _Aconis_ below offered enough lighting. I held the infant with my left arm wrapped firmly around her small body. She was awake and laughing; grabbing at my dog tags that hung from my neck.

"The ship's log has accepted the entry," Reagan spoke with no emotion. "You are now the commander of the _U.S.S. Grumman_."

It was quite a feeling, being in command of a warship with enough ordinances on board to seriously fuck up someone's day. If I could go back to my younger days on the school yard, I'd scare the shit out of the fucking playground bullies. In reality you just flip a switch and it takes over. The whole ship is automated and our return flight was preprogrammed, nothing to do, but enact the recall command.

Well, it was a necessary entry in the log. It meant the ship would now answer to my command. If we wanted to follow on that return course, it needed my command to initiate. Of course, my authorization was required to launch the nuclear payload. There we stood and readied to annihilate the creatures responsible for so much.

Reagan silently handed me the launch key we took from the body of Captain Deal. Being Reagan was a synthetic; neither his programming nor the ship's computer would allow him to fire the nukes. We did not share a word, as I slid the rectangular block of the launch key into the slot on the control panel. Since I had sent an emergency 11-18 order to the ship, we were able to bypass many of the protocols for a nuclear launch. This was an emergency after all.

The klaxons sounded and the yellow emergency lights flashed. A mechanical voice announced over the intercom a message to inform all hands that a nuclear launch was initiated. Not that it had mattered, as we on the bridge were the only ones awake to hear it. Reagan already selected the targets on the planet below. These were coordinates of the colony determined to provide the most effective yield of a nuclear blast. A single missile would've done the trick, but I wasn't taking chances. Those fuckers down there were hard to kill and I wanted them all dead. I had Reagan select targets for five missiles. I wanted to turn the archipelago the colony sat on into a nice patch of ocean.

The missiles left their tubes and began their descent through the atmosphere. I had the ship hold orbit, so we could confirm the impact. It was a ninety minute trip to orbit _Aconis_ before we'd be back over the colony and I could get a visual of the destruction.

It was a quiet ninety minutes. Reagan had gone into the ship stores to find some dehydrated milk. The Synthetic returned with a makeshift bottle for the infant molded with scavenged medical dispensers. I held the child in my arms and fed her the milk from the bottle. I couldn't tell you when she had anything to eat last, not since the panic on the airfield. Reagan gave a polite nod and excused himself. Being an android, Reagan would remain awake for the return trip to monitor the ship. He wanted to run a check on the reactor before we fired up the drive. It was no matter, I had my hands full with the little one, damn was she adorable. Being she had no family left, I kind of looked forward to the prospect of being a dad.

The colony was just emerging on the horizon. The bright, pristine blue sky had turned a grotesque hue of orange over the site of the colony. The air below was covered by darkened clouds that stretched upward to the atmosphere. We reduced an entire colonial holding and an outbreak of xenos to ash in a little over an hour. It was another study in the hubris of man, one he would never learn.

 **000**

 _And so I end this account of the operation on United States Colonial Holding, Sutlers Folly, Aconis LV-855. Heavy casualties were sustained including the loss of our commanding and executive officers. To our complement, we add three civilians, two adults and one child. I have taken command of what is left of our Company and ordered a withdraw from the planet. On my authority, we initiated Special Order 11-18 and utilized shipboard nuclear weapons to eradicate the infestation. We are due to return to Kuat ASFB in thirty-seven days. This transmission will likely be received a week before our arrival and a board of inquiry will have already determined my fate. I defend my actions in the face of the hostile species we encountered and took proper steps to exterminate their presence. May God have mercy on the ones we left behind. This is Corporal Richard Morgan, acting commanding officer, two-six Marines, signing off. Semper-fi._


End file.
